Chapter 9: Lisa's introduction

I did not mean to, but Cary knew paying off the school fees would be a problem. Despite her relentless behest for me to "take a loan" from her, I had made my stand on wanting to settle the fees myself. Lisa, Cary, MiMi and I, having formed fast friends, were talking about potential jobs for me which had to be sufficient not only for the fees, but for my daily expenses. Flexibility was a problem as the school hours made it hard for me to commit full-time.

I have always considered myself frugal and not much of an obsessive label whore. In fact, I think its attributable to the fact that I had never even been able to afford any luxury good to know how it feels like to begin with. However, it was a constant struggle deep down inside whenever I hung out with the girls as they had no financial woes, and only wined and dined at the finest restaurants. Its always nice to have your meals paid for, but somehow the idea of "free loader" was jabbing sharply at my conscience and pride.

The four of us chatted over tea at TCC once, and being lost in their swanky conversation of Prada, LV and Gucci, it gave me time to do my observatory work. Lisa looked really attractive clad in a daffodil yellow floral dress from BEBE. She was arguing with Cary about which monogram LV bag was the hottest from the last season. And I knew Lisa was the kind of girl who spoke her mind. No inhibitions and no hidden agendas. A good friend.

I remember that night with Ivan, Lisa woke up and was disappointed to find that Ivan disappeared without a trace. I asked if they had sex, and she nodded her head. I felt a slight lurch in my heart, although I knew that answer right from the start. After telling her what actually happened, Lisa was angry that Ivan was such an asshole, but brushed it off with "At least he gave great sex." and we all laughed it off.

I shifted my gaze to MiMi, who was dressed in tight leather pants, an Ed Hardy tank top and stilettos from Guess. Her androgynous attire paid perfect tribute to her hairstyle and cold stare. Her left leg was curled suggestively over my right foot as we sat at the circular table. She never stopped texting me after our rendezvous that night. Somehow, it became a silent pact that our attraction for each other was to be kept under wraps, and purely just for pleasure purposes.

MiMi was listening intently to the conversation, her elbow propped on the table and hand supporting her chin. She was an attentive listener, making comments only when necessary. Her balance of femininity crossed with masculinity intrigued me as it was wildly exotic. Her face hardly betrays her emotions, or if she was even capable of any. I never stopped feeling that she had plenty of lewd thoughts swimming in her mind whenever our eyes met. And it was incredibly sexy.

I told MiMi about the rape. And I had no idea why I did. But somehow I felt that I had to. I needed to ask someone why do I still crave sex even after such a nasty thing happened to me. Am I considered a slut? Did I secretly enjoy the rape? Or was it the rape that changed me to become a tainted soul with impure thoughts? MiMi listened quietly as I let her in onto my urges, the strange vibe inside me and my addiction to giving and receiving pleasure.

That was when I finally knew why I felt that way. MiMi explained that I am probably, a nymphomaniac. Its a term to describe females who possess an extremely strong desire for sex. Its like as though I am always on aphrodisiac. And she said being a nympho does not equate to slut as nymphos are proud of themselves just as any man, would be pleased to ever meet and own one.

And, I accepted that term. She elaborated on how I felt disgusted by the rape because it was something against my will, not to mention, the aesthetically unpleasant men that were at it. However, it would be wrong if that terrible incident placed a barricade over my mentality as I deserved every right to feel the right kind of pleasure again.

Having matured over the months, I was starting to embrace the strange vibe. I just had to learn how to play my cards right. So, after the heart to heart talk with MiMi, I was relieved upon knowing the scar from the rape was finally healed and sealed away at the furthest end of my memories.

Lastly, I looked at Cary who was seated on my left. Her white chiffon dress from Ted Baker was flowy and princess-like. Her manicured nails were wrapped around her tea cup as she rambled on with Lisa, their senseless argument was nothing short of entertainment for MiMi and I. After all the months that I spent with Cary, it dawned onto me that she had many layers, and a lot more which I have yet to uncover.

Cary had taught me many lessons of life, all of which I had humbly etched into my brain. And she made me who I became. I looked at my reflection on my phone, egg shaped face with  soft and full lips and... large almond eyes complemented by discernible double eyelids. I no longer needed the tape. My cheeks glowed from the mild bronzer as my hair fell perfectly, swept on to rest upon my left shoulder.

I owe her more than I can ever repay. And I knew she was aware of that.

Lisa finally snapped out of the argument, digressing to my job hunt. "I have a job in mind, I think it suits you perfectly because there's much booze included. But it may be sleazy..." She bit her lip as MiMi shot her a death glare.

"Does it pay well?" was all I said, knowing beggars can't be choosers.

"Yes. Very... if you know how to. China women are really good at it." Lisa rised her eyebrows playfully at Cary, sticking out her tongue, much to Cary's ruffled expression.

"What is that??? Sounds really... err.. " I stopped my sentence, knowing it was a landmine waiting to explode as Cary's face was flushed from the personal attack on her country.

"Its working at a KTV as hostess. The sleazy ones pay really well if you are popular and .. open-minded." MiMi resolved the tension with her chilly voice.

The image of a large orgy within the interiors of a KTV room popped up into my mind. I gulped. Surely it can't be that bad. I snapped out of that scene and returned to reality with 3 pairs of eyes staring at me.

"I'll do it." was my reply.

~

Two weeks later, it was a Friday night. Cary helped me with my make up whilst Lisa chose a suitable outfit for me; A really short Alexander Mcqueen dress with fitted bodice and lace inserts, paired with glossy black strappy stilettos from Jimmy Choo. It was time for my interview with the KTV hostess, often addressed as "Mummy". She takes care of the girls in a pimp sort of way, and does the arrangement of assigning the girls to suit the clients' preferred choice.

I remember the pompous doors painted gold with two dragons circling the glitzy signboard bearing the KTV's name, "Imperial". The waitresses wore traditional qipaos with high slits, their bare thighs sculpted and smooth, elongated by their high heels. They conversed mainly in fluent Chinese and exaggeratedly sweet coy tones, proving that Lisa's remark about PRCs working at the KTV to be, really accurate.

Lisa took my hand as we stepped through the door, navigating through the posse of servers, waitresses and managers, our heels making no noise against the rich carpeted floor. Music resonated from the walls, merged with men's laughter and bass so loud, the vibrations sent tremors down the corridors.

We stopped in front of a "Staff only" door, a single chestnut door with creaky hinges as a woman opened it to welcome us. She was tiny, her long straight hair perfectly brushed to a shine. Unlike the waitresses and their inch thick makeup, the woman wore only a red lipstick and smudged eyeliner. Her eyebrows were tweezed so fine they were just two curved lines running across the small width of her forehead.

She had a mole on her cheek, 2 inches from her thin lips. Neither pleasant nor friendly was the word to describe her, but she had a vibe that was really stern but motherly. The woman broke into a smile upon seeing Lisa, and gestured gaily for us to step in.

My intuition was right, she was the "Mummy", and her name was Jenny, but I was to call her Mummy, if I get employed. She seated us on plastic stools, right in the midst of the messy staff room. A large mirror hung on the wall, with bright lights to illuminate the otherwise dark interior. Make up brushes and lotions were littered across the dressing table as Jenny shoved some away to make space for two tea cups. She poured tea from a thermal flask, whisked out from nowhere as Lisa and I sipped obediently.

Finally, Jenny took a long look at me and said "You are very pretty. Good." She motioned for me to stand up as she twirled me around, her hands felt cold and clammy as she touched my legs, before smacking my ass. "Very perky butt eh. Men like. But, not much breasts? Chinese and Japanese clients will not like you as much then. Have to push."

Jenny cupped my breasts and squeezed them together. Lisa grinned at me and mouthed "TIME FOR SHOPPING" as I rolled my eyes at her. Jenny then disappeared into the clutter of the room as I heard the opening of a cupboard. She came back with an employment contract.

"Now, the basic salary is 12$ an hour for probation, then $15 after 3 months. Your basic is higher than most other waitresses because you are local. Every room that you go to will guarantee a red packet of minimum, 50$. You get commission from liquor sales too. However, the sales will be shared with the other girls in the room as well. Tips from customers are for your own keepsake. We are open every day except for Tuesday. You are required to work a minimum of 3 days a week. Understand?" Jenny spoke in  hokkien accented English.

Lisa then placed her empty tea cup onto the dressing table and said "Jen, don't forget to instruct her on the... special services."

Jenny nodded and straight right into my eyes as I tried not to look fazed. "Here, our girls provide special services to our customers, such as touching, kissing and blow jobs. It is taboo to negotiate the price as we are a licensed KTV, so these have to occur under "willing and normal circumstances" the money will be placed into your red packet before the client leaves, so be sure to check that it is the right amount. touching and kissing are usually 20-30$, and sucking is of course higher, 50-80$ depends on how much he likes you."

She spoke really normally despite the crudeness of the sentences and to which I merely nodded to show that I understood. Jenny handed me a signo ball point pen and the contract. As I sieved through the wordy Terms and Conditions, she added "If the customer asks for sex, it is to your own discretion to discuss with him if he takes you out of the KTV, but only leave when your shift ends, which is 3am. I will not be responsible if anything happens. However, it is not compulsory and you can reject them."

I nodded again, as I fought to suppress images of fat old men trying to wrestle their dicks up into me. I signed and handed Jenny the papers. "Here you go, mummy." I ended the sentence with a smile. Jenny patted my shoulder affectionately and said "You are a fast learner. See you next wednesday!" as she waved goodbye.

Lisa and I exited the door and went out of the building to meet up with Cary and MiMi, who reached a few minutes back by taxi. They were both dressed really well and I shot a suspicious look. Cary rushed forward to embrace me before quipping "We are heading to Zouk for a celebration!"
I groaned as I had work the next day, which was the 2nd last day of my waitressing over at the restaurant. Oblivious to my protests, Lisa and Cary shoved me into the awaiting taxi and in 15minutes, we were right at the entrance of Zouk.

The two of them chatted furiously whilst MiMi hooked my arm and we strolled leisurely behind. Then, she nudged me with her arm as we scaled the stairs up to the bar. "Look to your right." She whispered.

It was Ivan, in the familiar jacket and same affable yet sexy expression on his face. He was leaning against the wall to the toilet and to which I assumed, he was waiting for a girl. Some new prey I supposed. Not wanting to alert Lisa for fear of what antics she may come up with, MiMi and I stood at a strategic spot behind an adjacent pillar for a better view. Lisa and Cary went ahead to queue at the bar to place their orders, the high influx of people served as good blockage between Lisa and Ivan.

I was right. A girl dressed in a scanty attire of black hot pants and a cropped lace top showing an unhampered view of her black bra stepped out from the corner of the toilet and locked arms with Ivan. And they walked, towards us. My heart started pounding so loud it could almost deafen the drowning house music. MiMi spoke quickly "What are you going to do? He will see you for sure!"
I gulped before attempting to unlock the strange vibe in me.

Ivan rounded the pillar, and before I knew it, he was right in front of me. He stopped in his tracks and let go of the girl's hand. I stood staunchly at my position and stared ferally in a bid to dampen his beguiling gaze. The girl's eyes ping-ponged between Ivan and I as though trying to comprehend the intensity of the situation.

And to which, all I said was "Hi, I see you have yourself a nice prey there. Have fun." I patted his chest and winked, before grabbing MiMi's arm and strode past the pair, before disappearing into the queue to look for Cary and Lisa.

Lisa punched the air in anger as we related the incident to her over our jug of bourbon coke. Cary gave her a hug to calm her down before indicting she had to go to the restroom to answer Kevin's call. It had been 6 months and they were still dating. Maybe I was wrong about him.

Not long after our third jug, we set off to the dance floor and created quite a storm. Guys were dancing us up and we bumped into Ivan again. Lisa looked at him with disgust as he ground his hips against the same girl we met outside the toilet. She turned away and allowed herself to be wedged between two overly horny men whilst Cary danced with MiMi. I felt Ivan's eyes on me as I pretended to be immune to his attempts to catch my attention.

I proceeded to touch the cheek of the guy in front of me, before dipping low and gliding against him like a cat in heat. I then turned to face Ivan, with the guy's arms wrapped hungrily across my midriff. I relished the jealousy strewn across that pretty face as he tried to ignore the scene by fondling the girl's body.

My hand reached out for Ivan's face as I pulled his ear close to my lips, "Do you like things that are harder to get?... because... me too." I licked the lobe of his ear before pushing him away. I kissed the guy who held me on the cheek before waving goodbye. I no longer had use for him as I walked back to the girls, leaving the two guys confused as hell. I could have sworn I saw Ivan's ego deflating.

That was the last time I saw him. And that typical game of hearts that he played could not precede subduing me, although it left me gasping for air;  I had finally mastered to never submit to that, and that's when I could safely say, when a playboy meets a playgirl, I can change the stereotype by claiming my rightful victory in that match.

lesson 9: humans will never cherish nor fully appreciate anything that they can get within reach. 

Chapter 8: Playboy meets playgirl

As Wayne swiped the key card and opened the hotel room door, we were greeted by a decadently lavish living area. The night curtains of the free falling windows were tied up, revealing a breathtaking panoramic view of the Singapore skyline. Flashing neon lights dotted the landscape, and the Singapore flyer loomed majestically, the wheel whirled in a myriad of color burst. We were on top of the world.

The posh lounge chairs were in a rich color of wheat, threaded in intricate embroidery that glimmered with a silken sheen. Plump goose-feather cushions weighed down heavily on the seats in matching embroidered designs. A large fresh fruit platter occupied the beautifully lacquered rosewood coffee table, the exotic fruit variety guaranteed to whet any palate. An array of magazines were fanned out right next to it, featuring only the top tier reads. A modern art-piece hung adjacent to an ostentatious 55 inch LED tv, which was switched on, showing HBO.

Lisa was already helping herself to a premium selection of Godiva chocolates at the bar, which was far from "mini". A private wine cellar was stashed away at a corner of the kitchenette, with the finest selection of aged wines. Wayne pulled out a bottle of champagne, and stuck it into the frosted wine-cooler. Reaching for the wine glasses suspended above the counter top, Wayne pulled out 5 glasses from the rack. He then proceeded to chill the glasses by dipping them into wine-cooler.

Ivan assisted with the bottle opening whilst I set out to help Cary to the master bedroom, as graciously invited by Wayne. Cary's cheeks were flushed from the alcohol as she ambled clumsily into the room, her weight strained against me as I supported her with my arm. I tucked her into the opulent 4 poster bed and pulled the blanket up before leaving the night light on. The room looked romantic and fairy-tale like in the warm glow of the amber light.

I followed the sound of their voices, which directed me to the Jacuzzi area. It was spacious and entirely floored in marble. The Jacuzzi sat in the middle as liquid eruptions formed over the sloshing surface thanks to the powerful water jets. Wayne and Ivan were already in their boxers, their legs dipped into the invitingly warm water of the Jacuzzi. I found it almost impossible to tear my eyes away from Ivan's almost naked form. He was lean, but really toned as his chest was slick from the water droplets which snaked down deliberately over his delicious abs, soaking his boxers.

MiMi and Lisa came out from the bathrooms in their swimsuits, a red polkadot tube monokini and a stripey blue tie string bikini respectively. Mimi stuck her perfectly toned leg into the Jacuzzi, swirling gracefully, getting accustomed to the temperature before dipping her full body in. She smiled at me and gestured for me to follow suit. Lisa pulled my hand excitedly, and pleaded for me to put on her spare wetsuit. I followed her to the guest room where her L.V luggage bag was, and waited as she flipped through a mountain of clothes.

The guest room was adorned in a modern french flair, with Picasso art pieces and metallic lights. Two super single beds stretched out across the room, dressed in matching contemporary bedding of pastel hues. A subliminal brass sculpture guarded a work desk, which looked like it was about to give way under a surfeit of shopping bags from Gucci, Prada, Lanvin and Hermes.

Lisa dug out a beautiful two piece from Miss Selfridge. The top was a triangle halter neck with black lacy ruffles, and the bottom too,was black with a ruffled skirting. A stunning gold brooch "Selfridge" was sewed at the lower right hem. It fitted like a charm as the padding inserted cushioned my breasts, making them appear fuller. My consistent visit to the clinic and daily routine of the horrible tea consumption had paid off. I stared into the mirror for a split second, admiring my fruit of labor, literally.

"Lisa, you like Ivan?" I asked as Lisa tied the strings of my halter neck into a ribbon.
"He is cute. I don't mind having fun with him." Lisa replied honestly, giggling like a school girl.

A weird idea suddenly formed in my head.

We splashed in the Jacuzzi as I pulled MiMi to sit by me, allowing Lisa to nestle in next to Ivan. She grabbed his arm suggestively as she accidentally rubs her soft breast against his toned flesh. I pretended to be engrossed in a group chat with Wayne and MiMi, laughing merrily as we played guessing games. The five of us then finished three bottles of champagne, and the atmosphere was in flames. Wayne decided to call it a night as he got out of the tub to shower and collapse onto the bed next to Cary.

It was just us four, inebriated at 4.30 am in the morning, feeling the heat from the alcohol, the water jets and indomitable lust. Ivan was obviously more tipsy than he had wanted to be, sporting a healthy pink tinge all over his body and cheeks. Lisa took advantage of the situation by proposing a lascivious game of truth and dare with the couple of beers left unfinished.

The first spin of the bottle. With the luck of a distraught gambler, it was my turn to give Ivan a dare. Lisa looked at me expectantly, holding her breath in anticipation. Ivan looked at me intently. I gave him a come-hither smirk. I clapped my hands in delight as I announced: "Ivan has to kiss Lisa from her neck, down her cleavage, to the navel and end at the start of tie string bikini bottom." Ivan's jaw tightened. He knew I was doing it on purpose.

I indulged in the fact that I knew how a playboy like him operates. I was no way more attractive than Lisa, but the idea of playing hard-to-get tickled at Ivan's ego, because he was too used to getting whatever he wants. Lisa let out a false scream of shock upon hearing my dare, but allowed Ivan to lunge at her body, his tender lips caressing the streamline of her body. It was strangely erotic to voyeur such a scene.

Second spin. It was Lisa's turn to give MiMi a dare. "French kiss Violette for 1 minute." She ordered, her legs scantily hovered across Ivan's lap. It only made sense as there were no other suitable candidate. MiMi caressed my cheek gently, her fingers wrinkled from soaking in the tub. I played along as I inched towards her, our heads tilted in consonant angles as our lips searched for each other. Her arms were wrapped around me as I felt her tender tongue snaking through my lips, reaching out for mine.

I could hear Lisa counting down faintly in the background, her voice hovering over the sound of the water jets. But I was lost in the tension that was building up from the kiss. MiMi was sweet, hints of vodka, champagne and strawberries tantalized my tastebuds. Our tongues tangoed slowly, rubbing and tasting. It was gentle, girly and very passionate. Her hands moved steadily to the front, and I felt her cupping my soft breasts in her palms. I was alarmed, but the arousal was a sensation too powerful and too pleasurable that I was rooted.

"And... 60!" Lisa ended the dare with joint applause from Ivan. MiMi pulled away from me slowly, with a knowing smile on her face. I was confused, but I smiled back in response. A few more rounds then ensued, and with the last beer gone, Ivan got up and said "Alright, its time for bed! I'm dying." Lisa followed him like a puppy, rushing to hold his hand. Ivan turned back to look at me and I shot a glance at Lisa, to indicate she has already claimed him for the night. His smile stiffened as he walked away.

"Violette, you can share my bed." MiMi offered, still soaking in the watery bliss, no intention of leaving yet.

"You not gonna turn in?" I questioned. It was already 5.45am.

"Lisa is probably going to need some space with Ivan." MiMi hinted wisely. I assumed Lisa must have expressed her desire for Ivan long ago during the cab ride.

"Oh. Well. I guess then we just have to stay here for awhile more then." I kicked back, letting the jets massage my aching back, allowing my legs to be pummeled by the harsh flow.

"Violette, have you ever kissed a girl?" MiMi asked. And I could tell from her tone that she has been hatching something since the moment we met.

"No... Not really. I guess. Why?"

"You are into girls. I can feel it. Let me show you..." MiMi sat closer next to me, and I felt my heart pounding defiantly in my chest.

Before I could part my lips to speak, her mouth was already pressed against them, her tongue wriggling and making love to mine, which was reciprocating to its fullest might. Her hands were slow and sensual, touching all the right spots, tickling, trailing, circling from my spine, to my thighs, to my pelvic region. My disobedient body quivered from such tease as I felt myself succumbing to the mercy of another female entity.

My hands moved on their own accord, working their way into her tube monokini as I undid the ribbon in front. Her breasts spilled out, firm and taut, her nipples rigid in attention. I fondled with them, the touch of the tender goodness sent off bolts of electricity down my nerves. MiMi did the same, her fingers untying the strings at the back of my bikini. I felt my breasts freed from the wetsuit, submerged in the water. She pulled me up, her tongue now working hard on my nipples, her hand groping the circumference with passion.

A soft moan escaped my lips as she nibbled, her fingers then trailing to my bikini bottom, tugging at it, pulling it down. She then directed me to lie at the edge of the Jacuzzi, my legs spread apart. It was chilly now that my body is exposed to the cold air conditioning as I lie there, facing the ceiling, but the heat of the water gushing towards my sex drove me mad. And then she dived right into the middle, her hands holding my thighs firmly. She was in full view of my sex, as she smiled and kissed the labia slowly.

Her tongue then flicked at my sensitive bud, licking furiously. I moaned, my hands reaching forward to grab her hair. Goosebumps formed on my arms as I raised my head to watch her at work. She sucked at the bud in a steady rhythm, her right hand forked to part my nether lips for easier access. Her fingers then went in, thrusting in the same flow as her tongue, rubbing, sucking and stroking. I felt the pleasure building up as I thrashed about, my hips rising and falling to the rhythm of her cunnilingus. My bud was swollen and almost bursting with pleasure as my moans grew louder.

She then increased her speed as her fingers went faster, the sound of my juice merged with the vibrations of the water jets in lewd harmony. Her tongue dribbled hard at my bud as her soft lips sucked hard at the radius of it. Harder and harder... as I let out a helpless cry, my hips stirring fervently. The climax then exploded as I felt the orgasm rupturing from within, the waves of pleasure collided against the surges of the waves from the Jacuzzi.

The strange vibe that I had been feeling dominated me throughout the whole session with MiMi. As we got out of the tub and headed to the bathroom, I finally knew what it was. It was the dark side of me, of lust, deceit, tease and heartbreaker. I do not know if it has been predominating only after the vicious rape incident, but I was sure that it had only been dormant, having existed since a long time ago... I guess it was the real me that I had suppressed after being hurt by Darren.

But things are different now.

We changed and sneaked quietly into the guestroom. Lisa was asleep, but Ivan was nowhere to be seen. MiMi gave me a hug before climbing into her bed. I went out of the room dressed in nothing but a bathrobe as we did not want to wake Lisa by turning on the lights to look for dry clothes.

I searched through the Penthouse and finally found Ivan standing in the balcony, which delivered a full view of the daybreak. It was breathtaking. Ivan was clad in Wayne's spare shorts, his abs glowing from the sun rays. We stood in silence as we admired the view.  And suddenly, Ivan turned to look at me.

"I don't know what you think of me. But whatever it is, its not true." I detected anger in his voice, but I did not turn to face him.

"Lisa likes you." was all that I could come up with.

"I don't care about her. Why are you so weird? And so mean? I came here because of you."

"Did you guys not have sex?" I asked, a part of me felt that Lisa would always make sure she have anything that she wanted.

"I told you I am not whatever that you think of me as." Ivan could not bear with my detachment from the emotional conversation, his arms yanking at my shoulders, spinning me to look him in the eyes. The way he avoided my question left too much dubiety to be answered.

The sun has risen fully, the golden rays shone luminously against Ivan's face, making him look more attractive than he already is.

"I want you. And I don't want to play games anymore. Come with me to my place. I want time with you alone.. in my arms." Ivan stared right through my eyes, as though he could look into my soul. He bent down to kiss me on the lips.

I could have sworn my heart almost melted at that very moment, but images of Darren popped up in my head as I bit my lips, thinking of a smart reply.

"Lisa is my friend." I answered.

"You only met her last night!!!" Ivan raised his voice a little, feeling agitated.

"And so did you." I pushed his hands away as those words left my lips, stepping away from the balcony, pushing at the sliding door. Before I walked into the cold living area, I turned back and said

"Go pick someone else that ain't got a brain."

As I walked into the guest room, I heard Ivan gathering his things before the front door clicked open. And he was gone.

lesson 8: A man who truly wants you, will never let another woman walk into his arms.

Chapter 7: Strange Vibe.

I told Cary, anyway. She demanded me to repeat how the scene unfolded, just in case I left out any details. I exercised caution to emphasize that no romantic interactions were witnessed, but it was my gut feeling that things were not platonic. I could feel that she was shaken by my news, as much as her imperturbable facade tried to prove otherwise. Cary's star sign is Scorpio, whose infamous ego refuses to bow down to vulnerability of a defeated emotional battle. I knew that deep inside, Cary has already fallen for Kevin.

She tried to powder the sour atmosphere with "Kevin bought me an L.V bag, and an Ipad 3!" She cheered, dragging me into her room to show off her trophies of the catch. I did not speak much, but I knew it meant that she had given her end of the trade. I was not sure whether she was hurting inside from the fact that she may probably have been cheated on, but I tried not to show any sinew of concern. With a lackluster smile plastered on my face, I watched as she held up the L.V, the majestic logo shone like a beacon, illuminating the royal red of the embossed surface.

As I kept myself toasty under the duvet that night, I was positive I could hear soft cries. It seem that girls always lose out in the game of hearts, huh? I thought about Darren again, and almost stabbed myself for allowing him to enter my thoughts. Vengeance soaked to the bones, so overpowering as I gritted my teeth in assent. Something in me wanted the tables to be turned.

And so I did.


~

I took Cary out to Butter Factory on my next off day after that incident, and she was more than elated. She rocked the night with her Texas cowgirl get up of hot denim shorts, a matching rugged denim vest over a distressed white crop top. Her outfit was paired with brown fringed boots and a fringed leather wristlet. Her face glowed with her immaculate bronzing of her cheek bones and T-zone, matched with summer eye shadow and long fluttery lashes. Her flat tummy revealed by the crop top was fair and looked smooth to the touch, appearing flatter than it really was due to her towering breasts above.

To complement her get up, I was in an equally short white denim pants that enveloped my firm buttcheeks. I chose Cary's Salvatore Ferragamo sheer black chiffon blouse as my top. It featured a cut-out off shoulder with a lace collar and golden metal clasps at the edge. A row of golden buttons fizzle with robust glamour in the middle. The cuff-links too were in gold, with the brand's logo embossed on them. I completed the look with a newly acquired pair of golden heels from Charles & Keith, the straps crissed-crossed in a very seductive stance. My make up was punk-rock, with winged eyeliner, sugared with specks of gold shimmer, and the same bronzed cheeks with muted nude lipstick.

Cary chose our target that night, and I had no qualms about it. I followed her tightly, weaving in and out of the dance crowd. We stood right by the VIP tables, and I felt all eyes on us. She placed her hands on my waist, and we started dancing. It was a good thing we grabbed a couple of beers beforehand, or that would have been really stiff. And it wasn't long before a man left his table and approached us.

He seemed to be in his early 30s, looking uptight in his long striped shirt and careless tie. He sneaked behind Cary and started gyrating his hips against hers. They started conversing in Mandarin, which I then heaved a sigh of relief as I wasn't in the translator mood that night. I was struggling to figure the strange vibe that seemed to have sprung out of nowhere again, taking control of me like a skilled puppeteer.

I continued my little performance with Cary, my hands lingering on the chests of the random men who were trying to dance me up. My expression was nothing short of provacative as I licked my lips, my lashes battering, I winked and wore smugness as my good luck charm. The men clambered for my attention like hungry kois, their lust propelling in such frenzy I could smell it.

The striped shirt man, who introduced himself to Cary as Wayne, and was half Taiwanese and half Singapore disappeared to get us a jug of vodka cranberry. We downed the juice in seconds, having worked up quite a sweat from all the vigorous dancing. Transient intoxication kicked in in minutes from the brain freeze as Cary whispered "Let's make these boys go crazy." She pulled me in and started kissing my neck, stamping whatever surface area she could reach with soft subtle kisses.

I felt hands groping our asses, or wherever they could land as they fought among themselves for a chance to catch our gaze. But we did not stop, bringing our show just a step further as I dirty danced against Cary, my hands caressing her collarbone, trailing her ample bosom which jiggled at my touch. Wayne was completely seduced, his hands glued to Cary's tiny waist, giving off a dominating vibe in an attempt to claim his prize.

A well dressed young man caught my eye. He was dressed in a black leather jacket and ripped denim. He had attractive features; smooth complexion, sharp chin and mesmerizing almond shaped eyes with deep double eyelids. He was alot like Darren, even the air of haughtiness that hung around him was similar. The playboy vibe. He had been looking at Cary and I, but did not make a move.

The strange vibe in me did.

I caught his eye and beckoned him over with a twitch of my index finger and a smirk on my face. To nobody's surprise, he shook his head and tilted his head to his right, staring at the empty spot beside him. Taunting me, wanting me to go over. I signaled having no intention of giving in as I pointed to Cary, stating that I was not allowed to go anywhere else.

Having figured that my excuse was a valid reason, he knew he had to relent. I smiled and continued dancing with Cary as he walked over, his hands placed lightly on my hips, draping themselves so dangerously close to my ass. He was really tall, at about 1.8, his hair neatly waxed in short spikes. "You are a demanding girl." He whispered. His voice was dripping with charm as his breath lingered at my neck, smelling of lime mint.

"Couldn't be worth comparing to you." I gave a small smile as the words fell out without thinking. Cary saw him, and gave a small nod of approval before gesturing that she was going over to Wayne's table. I turned around and looked up at the man, his cologne smelt like Unforgivable man from Sean John. Truly unforgivable indeed.

"I am Ivan. And you are?" Ivan ran his fingers down my back, the friction of his touch against the chiffon of my blouse forged a path of star sparks down my spine. He was moving slowly and suggestively to the flow of my hips. His actions were well rehearsed and confident, complimenting perfectly instead of overwhelming the salacious atmosphere that we were engaged in.

"Ivan, don't ask me something you won't bother to remember." I spoke in tender tones against his ears, as my right hand curled against his neck, my fingers stroking the sensitive flesh behind his ear. My left hand was holding his waist, gripping into the stiffness of his leather jacket. We danced for a while more, both of us desperately fighting off the urge to do anything more, to admit defeat. I cupped his cheek in my palm as I gave him the most seductive smirk I could manage. And it was not even my conscious, but the mysterious vibe that was commanding everything. Stooping a little, he planted a kiss on my forehead, the warmth of his lips stilled my breath for a split second.

He was really good at what he does. And he knew it.

Appearing to remain detached and unfazed, I took his hand by the wrist instead of his fingers, and pulled him out of the crowd to Wayne's table. Wayne was chatting happily with Cary, and mentioned that he has a penthouse suite at Fairmont Singapore for the night. We were all invited to go over. Two girls came over to the table, both dressed to the nines. And they were really beautiful. I learnt from Cary that they were from Taiwan, and filthy rich as well.

One was called Lisa, she wore bright blue contacts that brought out the beauty of her unmarred make up and she was around Cary's size, but she lacked the assets. Her hair was dyed oxide blonde with pink highlights and she donned a tight red tube made of crepe. A necklace from Cartier stole the limelight as the rhinestones and diamonds dazzled prominently, demanding attention.

The other was MiMi, a really passe name in my opinion. But she looked really sexy as opposed to her dainty name. Her sun-kissed skin tone made Cary and Lisa appear ghostly as she sat in between them. She had shoulder length hair that was cut in a high fashion slant, short from the left to long on the right. Her straight bangs accentuated her oval face, flattering her high arched brows and romantic Chinese eyes. Her lips were painted red, the only distinguished color against her palette of monotone. She was dressed in a solid black LBD with analogous black heels.

I saw Ivan's fleeting gaze as he appreciated their beauty with no attempt to appear clandestine. I knew he was doing it to get a reaction from me. To which, he failed as I leaned over and said "Come with us tonight to the suite, I think you'd like that." I flashed a genuine smile, and I could have sworn I felt disappointment on his end as he could not detect any jealousy from me.

He shrugged and hesitated for awhile. I put my hand over his lap and said "4 pretty girls, what do you have to lose?" He placed his hand over mine and I felt him resisting the urge to interlace our fingers together. Instead, his hand remained for awhile before reaching out for his drink for a toast.

"Only if you down a full glass." He quipped. I took my glass in compliance and twirled my finger absentmindedly on his lap before retracting my hand.

Us 4 girls danced around the table as Wayne chatted with Ivan. I felt him stripping me with his eyes as I fought hard to win the visual battle. He was too handsome not to look at. As we danced, Lisa said "Ivan is so cute!" Her cheeks were red from the alcohol and probably from the blushing as she oogled at him, feeding his ravenous ego. MiMi on the other hand, was intrigued with me, her hands wrapped around my body seductively. Maybe she was inebriated. My bad experience with girls in school made it impossible for me to believe I could be attractive bisexually.

Wayne poured us more drinks and we finished the Belvedere Magnum before we left the club, heading for Fairmont. I left Ivan to take a cab with the two taiwan girls, on purpose of course. I relished at his silent protest as he feigned nonchalance when I ushered them into the cab. He tried to get back at me by allowing Lisa to tuck her arm into his. I simply shouted "See you guys later!" and waved as their cab drove off.

In the cab with Wayne seated in front, Cary showed me the text conversation between Kevin and her. She had gone with asking him about the Caucasian girl despite her claims of not going to do so.

"Violette said she saw you with a Caucasian girl that day."
"Ya, that is my friend from Amsterdam."
"O, why you did not tell me about her."
"Sweetie, my love, she is just a good friend, so I do not wish to invite unnecessary trouble by telling you."
"Ok... What are you doing tonight?"
"I have a meeting with some big bosses, and we will be going to KTV, so can't meet you tonight. Tomorrow k?"

His words were saccharine and so aptly phrased. Cary asked for my opinion, to which I responded with a lie. "Give him the benefit of the doubt first then, because you have nothing to lose right?"

She nodded. I knew that was what she wanted to hear as I patted her hand. She resumed her happy self as she perched against the front seat, speaking to Wayne in fast and fluid Mandarin.

As the taxi zipped down the empty streets, the tug in my conscience was killing me. My intuition was screaming. Knowing Kevin, I fear for Cary. The only thing I can count on then, was that Wayne may pan out to be a good distraction.

And somewhere deep down, where my strange vibe was hidden in the shadow, thoughts of Ivan and his chiseled features gave me goosebumps just thinking of his touch.

lesson 7: give the player all your attention by not paying him any.

Chapter 6; Knowing Kevin.

I was not myself for the next few weeks but work has been pretty hectic, which was good. Darren was the last thing I want to be clogging up my mind. On the other hand, Kevin expressed romantic interest for Cary, whom has reciprocated. Their frequent dates also meant I had no excuse not to reply Kai's texts to me, having to be dragged along for the double dates. Kevin was a gem, treating Cary just like the princess she should be.

One night, Cary was going on about how cute Kevin was in his pjs, and thus I asked if sex has occured yet, to which she replied "I will not have sex with him until he shows that it's worth it.".

"Worth it? Like how? I thought he has been really sweet to you." we conversed in simple English, as she was going through her make-up brushes, cleaning them with tissue.

"If you give a man sex easily, he will think he do not have to work for it. So you must preserve it until he showers you with constant well-treatment and finally, a lavish token to seal the deal." Cary spoke, her eyes never leaving the make up counter.

"Lavish token... like an expensive present?" I asked, bouncing up and down on her soft pink bed.

"Yes... Hehe. A prada bag hopefully." Cary giggled, her eyes sparkled.

"What happens after you have sex with him then?" I was confused, for I thought they were serious about each other.

"If the man is serious, he will behave himself and continue treating me appropriately, if he leaves, it is okay, I have the gift, but he will never get my heart." Cary spoke slowly, stumbling over the words. And I could feel in her tone that she meant it.

And that was the second thing I have learnt from my China friend. Never give a man your heart if you do not first have his. Or perhaps, let men fuck you for a branded bag. Which, I of course, has chosen to interpret as the former.
~

Louis went on non-stop about how pretty I looked after I appeared at work with minimal make-up which application was taught by Cary. I marveled at how everyone's attitude towards me improved considerably as of which. Colleagues who never knew I existed started talking to me, asking about the weather, about my day and what-nots. Customers hitting on me, shoving me tips and leaving their contact numbers on napkins became something common.

I stared into the mirror at the start of every day, looking at the reflection who was staring back. As my fingers dabbed with foundation cream went across those cheeks, I grimaced at the superficiality of the human race, how people are attracted to nothing but the skillfulness of the paint job on a sculpted mask, and how our daily lives are just a struggle to be accepted, to stay alive in this societal rat race.

On a particular Wednesday afternoon, it was Louis and my off day as usual. Strolling along town, we were approached by a flyer distributor. As Louis was about to reject the girl's flyer in her hand, I stopped to take it from her, wanting to make her job easier. It was a promotional advertisement for one of the local aesthetic and bust enhancement companies. And then I saw, bust-enhancement going at a discounted rate. I nudged Louis and said "No harm trying?"

He looked at my chest and chuckled: "Well maybe... but i don't really think there will be much results."

"Well... we can always go inquire. It's just near by." I scanned the flyer for the shop address.

Truth to be told, I always hated the inadequacy of my breasts. When mother was pregnant with me, she always wanted me to be a son. Imagine her disappointment when she woke up from her localized anesthesia to find her child wrapped in pink. I grew up in pants and digimon t-shirts, played catch with the neighborhood boys and never had my hair beyond my shoulders.

Primary school went by just fine, as I remained part of "the boys" where recesses were spent playing yugi-oh, eraser battles and balls when Wendy and I got into different classes. Reality hit only in secondary school, when the boys and girls started developing hormones and all the boys realized i'm really, actually a girl. I guess maybe that was why I was ostracized by both genders... because I don't belong to either. The time I have spent with the boys made me a foreign object to the girls in class, for I could not keep up with their gossips and endless preening sessions in the toilet.

Wendy and I played barbie dolls at home previously, but she too was not the average kind of girl, having grown up with two brothers in the house. Thus my knowledge of the feminine department was close to zero, other than the fact that I, like any other girl, was attracted to the color pink, and that I have had crushes on boys.

Breasts to me, was a symbol of femininity. My chest has done nothing to help me feel better throughout my adolescent years. At that moment, flyer in hand, I was hopeful. I wanted to feel womanly, something that I haven't really experienced since birth.

I omitted the idea of breasts implants because the ingenuity of it was something I just could not accept. But still, even as a safer and more natural alternative, bust enhancement already anchored me to the abyss of the vainpot club. Though it beats going under the knife, the thought of pursuing such superficiality made me feel like a hypocrite. But my legs had minds of their own, striding in quick steps towards the devil's lure.

The consultant was a friendly woman called Helen with massive ballooned breasts and a protuberant belly to match. I expressed my interest in the promotion, and talked about my childhood woes. Louis promised to wait whilst shopping at ION. Helen brought me to a room for examination. I was greeted with an acrid smell of tea tree and Dettol. Helen then put on a surgical paper mask and a pair of reading glasses.

A lone surgery lamp stood beside the surgical chair. I was made to bare my breasts standing in front of the blinding white light emitted from the lamp. Having snapped on a pair of doctor's latex gloves, I felt the rubbery texture gliding across my areolas, curving as Helen reached below the slight bump of my breasts to feel the depth. Her hands went around, over to my back, under arms and stomach.

"Violette, I have good news for you. It seem that favorable results can be attainable as you have a considerable amount of baby fat here..." Helen's fingers trailed down from my triceps, under my arms and at the sides of my rib-cage.

She then keyed the details gathered into the computer before asking me to slip into a green gown. We were going into the massage room. The room was dimly lit, with soothing spa music and a flat out bed. I was instructed to lie on it after getting out of the gown. I covered my lower torso with the warm blanket provided, exposing my breasts. Helen returned to the room with a tub of gel and a strange machine.

Working as she spoke, Helen pasted several pads that were connected to the device onto my breasts after applying a layer of the gel. She explained that the machine's duty is to create pulses that will stimulate blood circulation. The pads were strategically placed at vital blood vessels to maximize the blood flow. Not only was the cream made to lubricate and protect my skin, it also has herbal properties to help stimulate growth.

The machine whirred to life upon the touch of a button and I felt the pulses on my boobs. It did not hurt the least bit, and was surprisingly relaxing. Helen left me to rest for 20mins. I closed my eyes and allowed my mind to wander into the surreal world created by the melodious music that was playing. I soon dozed off, and was woken by the cold touch of Helen's fingers as she removed the pads.

A large blue tub replaced the gel on the table as Helen reached in, scooping out generous amounts of a bluish gel and smoothing them onto my breasts. The gel felt cold and slimy, but smelt of lavender. She then proceeded with a therapeutic massage, claiming that the massage is to actively push the baby fats towards the bosom, and the gel helps to firm up the collated fats into the breasts. The gel as she boasted, contained 17 natural plant extracts one of which produces hormones that induces "puberty of the boobs".

After a rigorous massage, my breasts felt sore and alarmingly firmer and fuller. I stepped out of the clinic feeling satisfied and slightly sexier. I have signed up for a 1000 dollar package, which consists of 12 sessions, and a complimentary bust cream to apply at home nightly. Louis then met up with me with multiple shopping bags and a huge smile on his face. "There's a massive sale going at Armani Xchange! The crowd is crazy. I bought something for you!"

We sat by the fountain outside Ngee Ann City as Louis peeked into all his shopping, and singled out a paper bag from Armani Xchange. Folded in crepe paper, was a party gown in midnight blue. Made of soft silk, the dress looked as though it used to be part of the night sky until someone cut it and fashioned it into a dress. Beautiful swarovski crystals glittered like stars against the fabric, shimmering and dominating the upper half of the spaghetti-strapped top. A demure V-slit cornered the lower right of the skirt hem, and an enclosed zip held the back of the dress together.

I gave Louis a tight hug and promised to wear it the next time we plan our drinking session again. I was on top of the world that particular Wednesday. I felt accomplished, sexy and genuinely exultant. Back home that night, I told Cary about the package that I have signed. She kindly offered an aged old home recipe that has been passed down by her mother's ancestors, it was a recipe for a special tea that will trigger estrogen secretion, which in turn will stimulate the growth of breasts as the body will be tricked into thinking it's time to breast feed.

China people really do have more than just a few tricks up their sleeves, huh? With the recipe safely tucked away into my wallet for easy perusal when shopping for the ingredients, I made supper for Cary and I as we sat down and chat. Her school term was commencing the following week, and she urged me to take a diploma cum degree with her.

It was a shame Cary had no interest in sales, for her glib tongue can surely get her places. Even my staunch stand on No-more-studying shook at its roots, and crumbled a little as I let her talk about how important the few pieces of paper would be for me to survive in Singapore. But deep inside, I had a feeling she was just afraid of being lonely in school, for I know a girl like her would definitely find it hard to make friends with the other girls; either that, or it will be Gossip Girls, China edition with all the fake facades and sanguinary backstabbing.

 Fashion designing was a juvenile and silly secret ambition of mine since I was a little girl. But if I were to agree and sign up for the courses, my finances would be really tight. I did not raise my financial issue to Cary however, as I wouldn't have accepted her help on this. She looked at me with that ineluctable pleading eyes that made me just exclaimed "Okay Okay! I'll go down to your school on my next off day to check out the course commencement date okay?"

Cary did a small dance of victory as I pretended to slump against the table in exasperation. The night ended with me washing the dishes, of course, as the princess was afraid of corroding her silken hands with the dishwasher. She was on the phone with Kevin all night.

A few days later, I went back to the clinic for my 1st official session of bust enhancement. After the same procedures as the trial provided, I exited the shop rubbing my breasts, as though the cells of my mammary gland were undergoing cytolysis. I had started to drink the tea that Cary suggested, and it tasted really bad. The things that women would do for beauty, I was growing to be surprised at myself.

Just as I was making a turn right at the corner of Ngee Ann City, I got a glimpse of a familiar figure going up the escalator. I squinted for a clearer view - It was Kevin. And he was not alone. In his company, was a Caucasian woman. There was no intimacy involved, but I bit my lips in bias dubiety. I guess my intuition about Kevin when we first met was pretty accurate. I felt anger gushing to my head, almost as though it was my own relationship.

But I had no idea if Cary ought to know about this, but to me, the hurt could very well be a knife of hope, before its too late. Or maybe... it already was.

Lesson 6: In the game of hearts, sex is a chip and love is foul play. 

Chapter 5; Knife of hope

Cary pulled me close to her as I leaned my head down to allow her to whisper into my ears: "Look not at what they wear, but the bottles on their tables and the watches on their wrists."

I nodded in comprehension, scanning the vicinity, trying to make out the labels of the bottles. My passion for alcohol had granted consummate level of the different brands and price, though sad to say, that adroit ability did not apply to watches. Jack Daniels, Belvedere, Chivas and Martell. There are tables with one sole Belvedere, shared by at least 5 men. Cary looked at me expectantly, like a Master who's awaiting her disciple's final testament.

My surveying ended, finally landing on a table against the far end of the wall, away from the DJ and the dance floor. Two men dressed in smart business attire were standing around it. My observant trait sets in, and judging from their hand movements and manner of speech, I gathered that they were good friends, and that it was just two of them. Two bottles of Martell stood haughtily on the table, and one was unopened, the other with 1/4 left. It was then easy to assume the men had came before, probably regulars and the 1/4 bottle was leftover from their previous visit.

I directed Cary's gaze to their table with a small tilt of my head. She smiled and nodded happily, patting my head like a proud mother. Just as I was about to ask what happens after the target is chosen, Cary was already making her next move. Holding my hand, she pulled me to the bar which was merely 2 tables away from the 2 men. She ordered two cups of vodka lime for us, and motioned for me to sit at the empty table closer to the bar, further from the men.

She then arrived with our drinks as we sipped daintily from the tiny straws. I stirred my cup absentmindedly, enjoying the clinking sound that the ice cubes made. She pulled up the stool to be seated parallel to them, to ensure that she was within their vision, but not directly. We made small talk, and at the corner of my eye, I noticed the men stealing surreptitious glances at us. The strange vibe inside me gained control as I delved 3 fingers into my fringe, running them through my hair before reaching the back of my neck, exposing my wrist outwards, lingering for a split second before trailing my hand slowly and deliberately over my collarbone, as though smoothing away stray strands of hair. The familiar gesture has been secretly practiced many times after I picked it up from the woman I met on my way home ages ago.

One of the men managed to catch Cary's attention and they exchanged glances. Cary's aura evoked friendliness that was inviting and sensual. I tilted to face them, and realized one of them had left his seat, with his cup in his hand, sauntering over. Cary raised her eyebrows at me, with a "They're hooked" kind of face and I flashed a smile.

"My, do you girls look stunning tonight." The man was local, and judging from his slight accent and words, he should be quite well educated. He was quite built and big-sized, with a square jaw and eyes that were small, but twinkly. He wasn't exactly handsome, but he had a pleasant and jovial charm.

I remembered how Cary was weak in English and I knew the next move had to be from me. I stretched out my hand for a shake and said, "Hello there. Thank you for your lovely compliment. I am Violette, and this is my friend from China, Cary."

The man then nodded in acknowledgement, his hand reaching out for Cary's, they shook hands and I saw Cary taking a quick glimpse of the over-sized chain watch on his hand. "Hi Violette, hi Cary. Kevin here." He smiled, and it was the typical kind of salesman-smile, well-seasoned and copiously drilled with tactical schemes.

"Would you ladies be ever so kind to grace our night with your presence?" Kevin extended both his hands. I turned to look at Cary for her cue. She nodded and got off her stool, cup in one hand and holding Kevin's with the other. I followed suit, readjusting the hems of my dress as I got off. As we approached their table, the other man who was slightly smaller in size got up for a handshake.

He was decently dressed, and from the signature cutting of his shirt, it was probably Marc Jacobs. He was not as pleasant looking as Kevin, but had lean muscles and a better figure. We exchanged handshakes with both of his hands grasping mine, and his smile was deep, and more sincere than that of Kevin's.

"I am Kai. Pleasure to know you, Violette." He spoke with an American accent.

The moment Kevin poured us drinks, I knew there was a problem - They seemed as if they couldn't speak Chinese for nuts, whilst Cary can't speak English to save her life. Kevin was attempting to strike a conversation with Cary in his fast, fluid English. She then shot me an SOS face and I knew I had to get her out of that awkward situation.

"Kevin, go easy on her. Cary's trying to improve her English. Perhaps she'd love for you to be her teacher." I teased, attempting to make it sound like a joke, fingers crossed that it wouldn't dampen the placid situation instead of saving things. I ended my statement with a chuckle.

It seemed that night was my lucky night as Kevin immediately gave a smart reply, looking at Cary with his glass held up, he said "Well Cary, I am trying to improve my pathetic Chinese. Perhaps you would like to help?" Cary smiled and nodded happily in response, her cup raised for the toast.

Kai and I left them to chat as I agreed to follow him outside for a smoke. I hated cigarettes, having tried to persuade my dad to quit since like forever. But ever since I started working, I knew social smoking was inevitable to encourage bonding. Kai took out his Marlboro menthol and lit it up. I leaned against the wall, my legs crossed as I balanced my clutch bag over the ledge and proceeded to tidy my hair, combing through softly.

"Is Kevin interested in Cary?" I asked, having ran out of the same old personal questions back in the club.

"I am pretty sure, yes." Kai replied, flicking the cigarette ash into the ash tray with expertise, and he continued "Will I see you again? Violette?" he dived into his pants pocket and took out his blackberry.

"Well... I suppose so, if Kevin and Cary will be doing the same." I proceeded cautiously, not wanting to trust men I meet in the club too much. The stigma surrounding the quality of men at such places was too strong to ignore. Kai nodded and handed me his phone, which I then typed in my contact number.

The rest of the conversation digressed to various talk about our hobbies and Kai's job scope. We then went back into the club after his 2nd stick. Cary was alone at the table when we arrived. I gave a bewildered look and she responded "Oh, Kevin went to get some warm water for me."

I smiled and said "Oh, that's really sweet of him huh." I gave her a playful nudge. She giggled and raised her glass, proposing a toast to Kai and I. My alcohol tolerance was tremendously high, trained by the regular drinking sessions with my work colleagues. But I could see that Cary was a fair bit tipsy.

Kevin returned with a glass of warm water, which Cary gratifyingly finished in one breath. After lots of chat in terrible Chinese and broken English, Kai took me to the dance floor, whilst Cary wanted to remain in her seat, for her sky-high heels and tipsiness made it impossible to dance. I was reluctant to leave without Cary, but she urged me to go ahead. Adrenaline was already rampaging in my bloodstream, and thus, I obliged.

The dance floor was packed as Kai grabbed my hand and fought our way through the crowd, taking place right in the middle of two dance podiums. His hand was on my waist in a polite manner that was far from indecent. I appreciated the respect and wrapped my arms around his back in return. We swayed in a synchronized manner and he was smiling the whole time. It felt nice.

Just as our dance was in full swing, Kai twirled me around and I saw... Darren. He looked so dreamy in his black v neck tee and white blazer that was glowing under the UV lights. His matching white jeans was held together by his G-Star Raw belt, one whose buckle I was overly accustomed to. In his arms, was not Wendy, but another girl. She was dirty dancing on him, her hands tugging at his blazer, pulling his shirt hungrily. He was like a connoisseur, his body grooving to match her rhythm, playing the support to her lead.

A sharp pain seared across my heart, piercing right through. Its annoying how you can get used to all sorts of physical pain, but still fall prey to the agonizing freshness of a heartbreak, as though it was something new, as though it was something you have never expected nor tried to prepare for. I guess I must have begot a crushing force field of negative energy, for Darren suddenly turned and stared at me.

I could have sworn my heart died right there. Those large eyes, smooth skin and defined cheekbones, the sudden recollection of how the velvet of his skin felt against my fingers sent a jolt of euthanasia-like paroxysm  throughout my body and I felt so exposed, so vulnerable. He smiled at me as though I am a stranger, but I could tell in his eyes, he detected a sense of familiarity that he just could not place. Strength of my hatred abandoned me right there, as I could not muster any ounce of energy to look away.

Just as it seemed I have been astral projected into another universe, Kai summoned me back to Earth with a concerned tug on my arm. I smiled and allowed him to pull me into an embrace. The scent of his CK perfume asphyxiated me as I tried to stifle the pleas of my heart, crying Darren's name. And he did not give up upon seeing I was Kai's dance partner. I saw him pushing his way through the crowd, the mysterious girl he was with no longer by his side.

"Have we met before? You seem vaguely familiar." Darren placed his hand on my shoulder. Anger was strewn across Kai's face as they engage in a battle of ego with no horizon. I stopped Kai's arm, which was about to strike in protest. I whispered into his ears "Wait for me at the table. I will be right back. This is a friend." He obliged, backing off reluctantly after shooting Darren a warning glare, which Darren has conceitedly ignored.

I felt the strange vibe coming back to me again as I said nothing, my ache for his skin against mine too overpowering. My hands were clawing seductively on his blazer, before i turned my back against him, right hand raised over my head, touching the nape of his neck as I pressed my body on him, my ass working against his growing erection. I slid up and down like a cat against its scratch pole, my body channeling enthrallment. Just as I turned back around to match his gaze, I saw the lust in his eyes. Darren's hand was devouring every inch of my ample bottom, as his free hand was on my chin, pulling us closer.

"You are so hot." he whispered, his voice oozing with complacency as though he has caught the bait. Just as his fingers left my chin, they started sliding down... reaching for my breasts. I relished that moment, but realized I was falling into his trap again. I grabbed his hand firmly to stop his advance, a potent mix of hatred and disappointment squirming in the abyssal pit of my core. Looking into his eyes painted with shock, I shouted, my words coated with anger, but driven by extreme pain "Yes, we have met before. I am the girl whom you have fucked and thrown away. The girl you wouldn't fuck again even with a bag over her head. Now get out of my sight or you won't get to see your sluttish balls again." I swallowed hard, the overwhelming heartbreak let loose a fury of tears.

I gave him a shove, leaving him traumatized and utterly embarrassed before slipping out of the hoo-haa i have created smacked in the middle of the party crowd. The words that left my lips felt bittersweet. It was like a thirst that was finally quenched, as I felt as if I had managed to hurt him back, even if it was inconsequential. The pain still stung, but this time, it felt like a knife of hope... Leading me to freedom.

I returned to the table after drying my eyes, where Cary greeted me with a hug. She was sleepy and thus the guys agreed its time to leave. I tried to remain composed, the Aquarian in me fighting to appear detached and emotionless. Kai never stopped looking over from the front passenger seat and I smiled every time he did. I promised to text him again, and thanked the men for the ride home before helping Cary out of the cab and back to our house.

Lying in bed, the dreary dead of night choked with melancholic atmosphere as loneliness and heartache were let loose, engulfing me like ravenous flames. I closed my eyes, the inebriation of alcohol swam in frenzy, pulsating at my brain. With power beyond my control, the night of my first sexual experience replayed in front of my eyes.

It was a Saturday night and my parents were out. Having planned for that day to be our movie night, Darren came over, with the Sadako VCD, a couple of Corona Extras and gourmet popcorn. I loaded the show as he removed his Birkenstock, placing them neatly on the shoe rack. He unfastened his G-star Raw belt, using the in-built bottle opener of the clasp to undo the caps of the beers as I reached out to touch the jagged material of the belt, holding the clasp with my fingers, I helped to fasten it back as he planted a kiss on my forehead.

We downed 5 bottles each and it was halfway through the show. The interim high derived from the booze got his cheeks in a beautiful rose blush as we started making out. His tongue fought through my lips desperately, searching for its counterpart as our lips locked, our tongues thrashing about in a ferocious courtship. His hands busied themselves, scrambling about down my back, wanting to explore and own every part of my body.

I felt his right hand sliding into my pants, the middle finger curved.. reaching for my flushing clitoris before delving further to caress the slot. His slender finger worked itself with dexterity, teasing my nether lips, begging for their sacred dew. It went inside, stroking the walls of my sex, persuading their fluid release.
His thumb was pressed against my neglected clitoris, concocting a makeshift vibration by pressing and releasing, casting me into a centrifugal plane of forbidden pleasure. I felt the build-up of an orgasm as I let out a cry, his index finger slipping in to join the middle one, creating a storm, rendering me with shudders.

My eyes were closed and body immobilized as energy was all dispatched to the intensity down south. He scooped me into an upright sitting position, his fingers still indulging in the nectar they had mined, hungry for more. His left hand fumbled clumsily as he tried to remove his belt. My shaking hands arrived at his rescue, working meekly at the clasp. I tugged at his jeans, fingernails digging into his Levi's underwear as I helped him to get undressed. His manhood stuck out right at my face as I pulled down the obstructing innerwear.

His hand guided my head with a gentle push as I parted my lips to embrace his cock. My tongue tickled the throbbing shaft as he moaned softly, his hand stroking my hair. I took him in further, wrapping my warm mouth around his starving erection, which was writhing in pleasure. I built up a momentum, my lips tightly vacuuming the taut flesh, tongue fondling the sensitive veins and the frenulum.

His right hand exited from the wet mess as he pulled down my pants soaked with juice. He pushed me down onto the sofa, his jeans dropped onto the floor as he stood up right. Getting out of the denim, he then climbed on top of me. "I love you Violette, so much that I want us to be closer. I want to feel every part of you." My heart melted and I made no attempt to decline as I parted my legs, my sex crying to be filled. His sweet, deadly lie seemed so real, and I wanted him to know how much I loved him, how much I'd go to give up things for him. Darren lowered his body, his cock was drenched in pre-cum from all the heated excitement, positioned for penetration.

His arms grabbed my shoulders tight as he thrust his manhood into my sex. Pain intertwined with pleasure, sprouting in my uterus, branching out to every inch of my body. "Does it hurt, baby?" Darren whispered, his voice raspy from the gratification of fullness. I shook my head, my hands clutching his firm ass, begging him for more. Darren went faster as his moans met with mine. His cock was long and hard, stretching me, trying to go deeper, and tantalizing my walls that were seething with ecstasy.

His right hand freed itself from my weight as it wriggled under my tank top, fondling my breast crudely, squeezing and rubbing my sore nipple, plucking at it until my moans intensified. I felt his cock welling up inside as he cradled me tighter, going faster, the sound of his hips against my thighs quickened and the flow rapid. He let out a loud groan as he pulled his penis out, his right hand masturbating it furiously as he came, his hot semen strewn across my belly, sweet orgasmic bliss written across his face.

~

The scene faded off into the darkness. I heaved, tears wetting the pillow as I tried to sleep, my heart twitching in agony, with hunger pangs terrorizing my sex, which was still aching with the remembrance of... its first encounter.

Lesson 5: They say what happens in a club should stay in a club.

Chapter 4: first encounter.

Thanks to the inheritance of mother's observant trait, the next few days with Cary had amassed better understanding of the China beauty. Cary was 4 years my senior, but I guess the competitiveness out in China has compelled her to mature faster in mentality. Our meals together felt alot like QnA, where Cary asked questions and I just answered. Questions about me, my past and what were my plans for the future.

I realized that Cary doesn't eat anything fried. Fast food restaurants were permanently banned from our dining options. She however, over indulges on chilli. I wondered if that was how she remained so slim. And lucky for me, I too was a fan of spicy food, which made our menu choices easier. Her first piece of advice came on really randomly whilst we were chilling at a bar at Clark Quay after my work.

Cary was wearing a slinky white flutter sleeved dress, her fantastic bosom stuffed nicely through the stretchy lycra creating traffic-stopping cleavage that was sexy, but not overwhelming. Her outfit was completed with gold bangles and her cat eyes made smoky with shades of brown and gold glitter. I felt like a wallflower, nonetheless, but I did not mind, having gotten used to that feeling since my days around Wendy.

Through our 3rd martini, a couple walked by, hands interlocked and whispering sweet nothings. Just as they both turned and caught a glimpse of Cary, it wasn't just the man, but also the woman who took a double,triple take. Their eyes wandered from her head to toe, and up again. It was hard to tell what the woman was feeling when she looked up and caught her partner admiring Cary, but I could tell that the man was very much smitten. As though guided by an invisible force, the man let go of the woman's hand. Seething with displeasure, the woman stomped off ahead. Soon as the man realized he was out of peripheral vision, he chased after his lover, and attempted to hold her hand again.

Cary was aware of the attention she received, and she giggled alittle when she noticed that I was observing the way the couple had reacted. That was when she spoke, her voice serious and convincing,

"To be truly attractive, you have to be lusted for not only by men, but also women. What separates a vixen from a true Aphrodite is just the difference in mentality. You cannot stop women from feeling jealous or dislike, but you can make them fall in love with you, wishing not to be like you, but to be able to make love to you. That is the epitome of attractiveness." Her statement was repleted with tough Chinese words, but I managed to understand what she meant.

It was eloquently phrased, but "women making love to you" seemed just alittle weird. However, after putting some thought into it, the statement actually made perfect sense. It was easy for me to imagine doing nasty things to Cary, though thinking of that seemed inappropriate. Just like how the Chinese may use unorthodox methods that are controversial from the modern and scientific ways, the methods achieve the same, or better results. I guess its all about perspective.

Cary smiled behind her glass of Mojito, her slender fingers wrapped gracefully around the glass, her pinky stuck out in the most refined manner.

"Since it is your off days for tomorrow and the day after, i'm thinking of going to a club. Do you know of any good ones?" Cary questioned, the tone in her voice hinting she was not asking, but expecting my company.

"I guess we can try Powerhouse. I heard colleagues talking about it." Back in those days, St James Powerhouse was one of the hotter nightclubs out in Singapore. I gulped down the remainder of my martini, and tickled the lychees left in the glass with my straw.

My classmate brought me to an underage party once when we were in our secondary school, her brother was the "runner" for the club and needed support. Runners are people who are hired to sell the entrance tickets. It was rowdy and sticky inside, with rambunctious gangsters cat-calling their gang codes. But I enjoyed the reverberating music, the beats kicking up in my system, channeling emancipation of my usual solemn body.

Cary nodded in delight before calling for the bill. It was always her treat. I gave up wanting to go on dutch after her repeated refusal to take my money. "I have enough. You save it for yourself." was what she always said in a stern and almost commanding tone, her tiny palm pressed against the dollar bills.

I couldn't wait for Powerhouse. Just as I was rummaging through my scarce wardrobe, Cary appeared at the door, a hanger hooked onto her index finger. It was a beautiful dress from Guess in a shade of deep plum. Soft mesh layered in ruches, strategically creased at the lower half to conceal any unsightly belly bulge. The straps ran in a tank-top fashion, forming a sweetheart neckline at the center, completed with a concealed side zip on the left. My lips parted in surprise as Cary wiggled her finger, making the dress shiver on its hanger, wanting to be put on.

"This will definitely be your size. And you will look good in it." Cary assured, sticking out her arm, pushing the dress into my embrace. "Take your shower... I will fix your make up later." She smiled, adjusting the towel wrapped around her body with her hands. As she took her leave, I spent the next few moments feeling the soft fabric of the dress on my fingertips. It was so delicate, so pretty.

In the toilet, I stripped and looked into the mirror. I was blessed to have dad's lanky genes, the only good thing, i guess, that I had gotten from him. My tummy was almost non-existent, my arms subtly toned, thanks to the hours i toiled at the restaurant, running around like a maniac with plates that weighed like rocks.

Getting into the dress was no hassle as it fit like a glove, hugging my lean frame, and enhancing my ample ass to the T. I gazed into the mirror and was pretty astonished to see what was staring back. I did not dare to look further up though, for I knew no pretty dress could soften my unattractive face. I was contented with just staring from the chin and below, admiring myself from all angles. Then there was a knock on my door, and in came Cary who was all dressed up.

 I've never seen her looked any much lovelier. She donned an electric blue bustier dress which had its sweetheart neckline dotted with jewel embellishments. Her breasts looked soft and milky juxtapose the bright blue, and her hair was evenly teased at the ends, giving the long straight strands volume and shine. A silver necklace with her name in sterling silver crowned her bony decolletage. Her eyes sparkled with lids clad in silver shimmer, and looked doll like with Japanese style fake eyelashes.

I said honestly "You look so pretty, Cary. I wish I had looks too." I looked away, not wanting her to feel as though my gaze was going to devour her whole. Cary frowned, her lips formed an adorable pout. "Don't you dare say that about yourself. No woman is ugly. You become beautiful as long as you believe you are, and that you can be." Cary pulled me to her room and sat me down in front of her dresser. The entire table surface was cluttered with various bottles, gels and kaleidoscopic make-up colors in pots, tins and palettes.

"Now, close your eyes, Violette, and just relax." Cary cooed as I followed obediently. I can hear her fingers working expertly, selecting brushes and singling out different shadows and lipsticks. A cotton pad was swiped across my face, the toner leaving a fresh sting with its anti bacterial agent. "I am guessing you haven't tried double eyelid tape" Cary continued, her pinky lightly touching my eyelids.

"Nope, I haven't. What's that?"
"You have very loose eyelids, it means that you can actually have natural double eyelids without going for surgery. You just have to make indentation, applying pressure and seasoning the lids with the use of the tape, and soon, you will have natural double eyelids without the help of the tape." I felt the nub of a plastic stick going across my eyelids. It did not hurt, but there was pressure.

The next few minutes passed with liquids, gels and what-nots of different textures and smells applied on my face, swept, brushed, dabbed, drew and smudged. Finally, Cary sprayed my face with a refreshing Spring water Spritz and I knew it was complete. I raised my eyelids alittle, squinting ahead. My mascara tinted eyelashes formed a rich velvet black curtain, as though reeling up to the audience ahead of me. I opened my eyes fully, and could barely recognize who was in the mirror.

I couldn't believe my eyes, literally. I reached for my cheek, my left hand trembling  as I touched my face deftly, as though my face was a porcelain mask I was afraid to shatter. The double eyelid tape held miraculously, giving my eyes an instant perk. Contrary to my fear of how uncomfortable the tape may feel, it felt lightweight and barely existent, as though it was formed that way.

My cheeks glowed in perfect bronze, complimenting the smooth nude color of the lipstick that brought out the fullness of my pout, making them look so kissable. My hair was artfully blown and lightly curled, combed to the left and held with a gentle spray. The metallic green eyeliner was drawn proportionately, accentuating the contour of my eyes. The grunge green brought out the honey in my brown eyes and the colors were so impeccably matched that it was poetic.

I broke out of the daze and let out a soft gasp. For the first time, I felt... beautiful. Cary smiled and patted my shoulder, saying "I don't make friends with ugly girls, so remember, you are going to be my best friend in Singapore!" She flipped through her drawer, and pulled out a pink perfume bottle. It was from Versace. She spritz it on me and with an excited clap, she exclaimed "Its time to go!!!" We left her room, and I sneaked into my room to grab my shabby black clutch bag before joining Cary again, who had a bounce in her steps.

Cary put on strappy silver heels that looked tramp-y, but it transformed into something glamorous the minute she had them on. I thought of how long and how hard I have to try to get that kind of aura and secretly felt crestfallen. I doubt I can ever attain that level. I took out my pair of black heels, it was the only pair I have and I was glad black was versatile enough to match my outfit and not land me a date with the fashion police. Made entirely of suede on the exterior, it was an open-toed design standing at 3" high. And we were ready to go.

I flashed my IC confidently at the bouncer guarding the entrance, feeling smug that I no longer had to be scrutinized and treated like a small kid. He let me in with a smile on his face that almost made me blush. But something inside took over me, and I gave him a wink with a smirk across my lips instead of my usual awkward smile. His toffee eyes never left me until I disappeared through the towering curtains behind those ornate doors. Cary grabbed my hand and walked towards the locker area, where it was quieter.

"Are you excited?" Cary asked, her hips swaying to the beat of the music.
"Yes. Very!" I replied, my heart already lost in a rhythmic choreography with the DJ.
"Now, I will be showing you, how to know which table of men you have to go to. This is very important, because we all want men who have spending power."
"Huh?" I was plain surprised as Cary had enough money to buy at least 5 tables.
"Now, Violette, a real lady has money and dignity to buy her own drinks, but what men are paying for, is a bid to get her attention, not impression." Cary spoke wisely.

I nodded, and momentarily got thoroughly absorbed by how powerful her sentence was. Hand in hand, we trotted off to the tables, creating quite a storm. The same vibe inside me took over again, crossing my legs daintily over each other as I walked, my back arched back with a flow in my walk. Standing in the middle of a cluster of tables, I felt all eyes on Cary, and then... lingering on me. Cary nudged my hand with a surreptitious smile.

At that moment, I realized my life was going to change forever, with the friendship of the girl named Cary.

lesson 4: Judge a man not by what he has, but what he's willing to give to you.

Chapter 3; the girl named Cary.

After that nightmare, I decided that the best option was to not face my dad at all. I will never forgive him for what he did, and I never stopped blaming him for being so weak upon the demise of mother. The love and hate clawed wildly at my heart which was almost too much for me to bear. Yet deep down, I knew his broken heart has never healed from that destructive blow of her departure. So the only practical thing was to move out of the house, away from the sick reminisce of that incident, his presence, and in case, it happened again.

I confided in Louis the day after it happened, and his gaping reaction only fueled my sense of humiliation. But i appreciated the comfort he provided, although he too, was unsure of how to make me feel better; simply because, there wasn't anything that could have been done to rectify the situation. He supported my idea of moving out, and through his connections, managed to hook me up with a china student who was enrolled into one of the private schools. Her rich father rented the entire house for her, but being as business-orientated as they are, she was keen to rent out the spare rooms to fund her extravagant shopping behind daddy's back.

There were meager belongings to pack. I dusted the photograph propped on my desk, kissing it before placing it carefully on top of all my clothes. Dad was not home. He has been drinking more than ever since that incident. I think he couldn't forgive himself either. I stood by the doorway with Louis extending his hand to help with my luggage. Nostalgia washed over me as my gaze floated around the house, taking in everything. The familiar scent, memories of mother and random childhood scenes.

"I cannot forgive you for what you have allowed to happen. Mother's departure cut to the bone, not only for you, but for me as well. I want you to remember that. But I did not allow myself to wallow in pity, not because I don't love her, not because I don't miss her, but because, I will carry on her love for what she left behind. The house, our memories, myself and you.

Mother will be so heartbroken if she sees what a wreck you are now. And now, I am going to leave you just as she did. I hope this serves as a wake-up call for you. It seem that I have lost all my respect for you as a father, and what's left now is just the bond that we have forged that cannot be broken. I am setting out to change my life, but for whatever good that may come, please don't think you or the incident played a part. Because you didn't. I did. I am the only reason for the dreams that I will be pursuing. 

Good bye, thank you for the care that you have given over the years. Please don't waste all your CPF money at one go. This cheque that I am giving is not much, but it is all that I am willing to give you at the moment. And it's only on mother's account.

Take care, dad. 
Love, V."

The letter was written on pretty paper that was part of my huge letter-pad collection. Wendy and I were crazy about letter exchange, and not once, did we ever think email was as sentimental as the crisp smell of the paper against the sharp tones of ink. I had it folded into a matching envelop, sealed with my personalized stamp, a cheque of 2,000 enclosed with it. I placed it on the coffeetable, together with the untouched 50$ note and the Charles and Keith.

I would be crazy to take those tainted things. Slipping into my flats, I turned away and never once, looked back.


...

Louis drove in silence, but I could hear his thoughts, screaming with concern. His Suzuki Swift rambled on, vibrating as he blasted the air conditioning. The sound of the engine covered the awkward atmosphere. Then suddenly, I decided to break the ice.

"I am okay, Louis. Thanks for being here for me." I reached out for his portly thigh which was tucked neatly into his denim washed skinny jeans and gave a reassuring pat. He turned and flashed a bright smile, happy to know the awkwardness has been warded off.

"Well Violette, I think you will like Cary very much. She's not very good with English. If you two hit it off well, I'm pretty sure she'll teach you a few tricks." Louis spoke excitedly, one hand off the wheel, tapping on his phone with another. A few tricks? I wondered what Louis meant.

His Swift made a sharp left turn down an unfamiliar street. I had no idea where I was. I have stayed in Jurong my entire life, and being the loner and workaholic that I was, I hardly went anywhere. The nearby MRT station was the only indicator that I was somewhere in Queenstown.

"Cary's only mode of transport is via taxis, thus she didn't mind how inconvenient the flat was. For you my dear, it can only mean affordable rent!" Louis stuck his pudgy thumb up, his left hand leaving the wheel, flashing a huge smile. I knew he was trying to lighten things up and deep down, I felt much better knowing despite my life spiraling down, I didn't have to face everything alone. I laughed in response, peering curiously out of the window, a small spark of excitement wavering in my heart.

I have never stayed away from my family, despite how empty my house was most of the time. And right now, I am actually happy to be independent.

As we approached a simple whitewashed door, it was pulled open even before Louis could reach the doorbell adorned with a cute sticker of a rabbit. Standing at the doorway, was Cary. Her aura was so beguiling and seductive that I felt Louis and I inhaling and holding our breath simultaneously, as though wanting to take in the sight in front of us, not willing to ruin anything.

Cary was petite, her height of 1.55 made me feel like an overgrown, large and burly troll. Before I could take a closer look, she spoke. "Hello! You must be Violette." Cary broke our enraptured gaze with a gentle smile, moving backwards to let us into the house.

Her delicate voice was perfectly matched by her buttermilk skin-tone and slender waist. Her tiny feet were covered by a pair of fluffy bunny slippers. She had bewitching eyes that contradicted her innocuous smile, those like that of a leopard, large, enchanting and slightly slanted. Her tiny frame seemed to be collapsing under the two abundant globes on her chest, made extra conspicuous by her pink t-shirt with a low V neck, portraying a well balanced unification of the devil and an angel.

I struggled to snap out of my gaze as Louis stepped forward to shake her hand, my luggage in his hand. "Come, I will show you your bedroom, Violette." Cary signaled to the right with a flick of her tiny wrist.

The house was well-lit and beautifully furnished. The wall of the living room was painted a gentle topaz. A sleek Samsung plasma was mounted right in the middle, its glossy black made a stark contrast against the yellow. A huge rug conquered most of the living space,  its weaves of beige and cream colored threads woven into a mosaic. The ivory white coffee-table was not elaborated, but artistically stylish. A single stalk of  red artificial tulip leaned gracefully against a triangular glass vase. The day couch was inviting and plush in its delicious off-white leather.

The hallway was spacious and airy, its walls resided by vintage photographs of various flowers; roses, forget-me-not, sunflowers, daisies and periwinkle. Three bedrooms loomed ahead, the doors painted whitewash as well. I had definitely not expected a HDB flat to be so tastefully decorated. Cary proceeded to the last door on the right and handed me a set of keys.

Louis handed my luggage over with an encouraging smile as Cary leaned against the wall to let me enter the room. "We will be outside. Take your time to unpack." Cary spoke in her fluent Mandarin, which surprisingly, was not strongly accented.

Subtle powder blue walls greeted me with poise, their elegance emphasized by a white trousseau in hand-painted oak and traditional copper handles. A super single bed was placed at the far end of the room with its wheat colored sheets looking comfy and alluring. A full-length mirror was drilled onto the wall, right next to a charming working desk. My index finger ran over the smooth craftsmanship of its surface, and judging from the fine layer of dust, the room has been vacant for quite a while.

The owner's love for floral paintings extended to my room as portraits of different sizes spruced up the otherwise plain looking interior. I stood quietly in the middle, and took a deep breath. It felt nice to be in the room. It was pleasant and welcoming, alot like how home should be. I opened my luggage on the parquet floor, not wanting to dirty the clean bedsheets. Laughter could be heard from the living room, mostly Louis' contagious cackles coupled by a few lady-like peals of giggles from Cary.

I wiped the desk with tissue and placed the photograph at the corner, tilted towards the right so that the light streaming in will reflect gently on it with a soft glow. The next few minutes were spent effortlessly as I unpacked my paltry number of clothes into trousseau, which had ample space left. I smiled to myself, a quick thought of Cary shopping with me for clothes having darted across my mind.

"Violette, I am sure we will be good friends. I would love to learn how to speak better English from you. Please do not hesitate to ask me any questions. My school term is not starting until next month, so we have plenty of time together, if you do not mind showing me around Singapore." Cary was courteous, her smile so captivating it was impossible to say no.

The rest of the day was spent with Louis preparing steamboat for us in the also lavishly decorated kitchen. Cary spoke about her life over the fine spread and a couple of beers whilst Louis brought in the humor factor with his endless supply of jokes and tease. My face was heating up from both the steam and the alcohol in my blood. Although my fingers were cold from clutching the ice-cold beer, I felt infinite warmth in my belly, and in my heart. It felt real nice.

It was 1 in the night when we finally got into our beds. I stared up at the ceiling, feeling toasty under the soft duvet. Moonlight formed an incandescent pool, twisting into an elongated shadow of the windows. Many thoughts were swimming in my head. Everything happened so fast. I am not a fan of change, but I don't shun it as much as I don't embrace it with open arms. Yet, I know I had to be strong and to always remember what mother told me, that everything happens for a reason, it's just dependent on whether or not you choose to believe that the reason is a good one.

As I listen to sounds of the few solitary cars passing by on the empty roads downstairs, I tried to comprehend the perplexity of everything that has happened... My oppressive secondary school life, Wendy, Darren, Mother's death and... the rape. I whispered "I will be strong, mother." before drifting into sleep, my head cluttered with the obscure thoughts left unanswered.

Lesson 3: A fresh start is only new when everything old is not forgotten, but accepted with grace and magnanimity. 

Chapter 2; obscure thoughts

The blisters on my feet cut sorely as my worn out flats showed no sign of mercy. Work at the restaurant was extremely busy and the only thing that kept me going was the dough i was rolling into my pockets. It's exactly two weeks after my birthday. I had recently hit off with this rather eccentric gay colleague of mine, Louis, whose bubbly personality has somehow, managed to make me indulge in more conversations than I had held with anyone in a year.

Louis aspires to be a makeover artist, and thus worked at the restaurant to save up for the costly school fees. He showed me how to put on proper makeup and tips on what men would like women to wear. To my own surprise, I had allowed him to cajole me into splurging quite a decent sum on a new hair cut and some clothes. My hair is now a lovely shade of auburn brown, with a fashionable side sweep that fall gently on the side. Color contacts were also introduced, and I chose Honey Amber to match my hair.

I remember how desperate I was to lose my glasses in Secondary School, having been called names by my classmates. Mother gave in to my pleas and brought me to the optician to get contact lenses... Not that it mattered though, because the name calling never did cease. They came up with new ideas to mock me.

His aspiration drove me into questioning myself... what am i saving up for? I no longer have the desire to study, although the restaurant has kindly sponsored a diploma at Shatec for me to put my communication skills into black and white, which I obviously, had aced effortlessly. Louis asked if plastic surgery had ever crossed my mind. Truth is, yes. But going under the knife felt like a luxury only celebrities could afford. And, do I really want such a facade?

Once during our work break, Louis eruditely studied my face, tracing my forehead, the bridge of my nose, circling my cheeks and a gentle tap on my lips. "You have a beautiful egg-shaped face. That is the object of envy among many girls! Even me." He winked, cupping his soft hand over my chin. "You have beautifully shaped lips. So kissable. Your iris! They are wide and enticing. I think you should do some magic right here..." His fingers went nimbly across my eyelids. Then, eyeing my chest, he added "And... there." He winked.

We dismissed it when I told him it'll definitely be placed into consideration. Because part of me still believed in men who will fall in love with the imperfections of authenticity, regardless of how pretty or ugly I am on the exterior.

It was pay day. Shuffling in my flats, I limped to the ATM and checked my balance. 12,583. All that slogging has secured me a sizable saving. I gingerly stuffed the withdrawn 20$ into my wallet, and proceeded with the torturous journey home in my screaming feet. A well-dressed woman was strutting along in front of me. In her hand was an extremely gorgeous leather bag in a delicate pink. Intricate lapels framed the front pockets, the clasps glittered under the streetlight, flashing "Prada". She was dressed provocatively, the purple dress hugged her voluptuous body like cling-wrap.

Prada. I salivated at her bag as the two of us walked down the same pathway. Her Christian Louboutins clacked noisily against the concrete, making her oblivious to my presence. Autonomously, I played with my hair, mimicking her actions. Three fore fingers delving into the fringe, sliding through upwards down the back before lingering at the neck, ending with a suggestive yet powerfully attractive flick of her wrist.

A zephyr tickled and I caught a whiff of her perfume. It smelt a little of spice, jasmine flowers and sultry tangerine. It was the kind of scent that would have driven Darren crazy, i thought, before slapping myself for even mentioning that wretched name. The woman and I parted ways as I took a left turn, arriving at the comforting brightness of the lift lobby.

"Click." The house door opened quietly. It was 10 at night, dad's usual time to quench his alcohol madness. I was surprised to see light emanating from his bedroom. I tiptoed into my room, not quite willing to see him and having to strike a monotonous conversation of proverbial questions. Just as I was about to close my bedroom door, dad appeared right in front, a stout in his left hand and his right against my door.

"Girl, have been trying to catch you at home for quite a while." Dad stumbled over his words, drenched thick in alcohol.
"Why? Yes?" I quipped the usual reply. It's probably him asking for money again.
"I have some friends coming over for a mahjong session tonight... " He shifted his body, propping himself against the door frame, as though trying to soothe uneasiness.
"Er.. okay? and? You want me out?" I crossed my hands, my tone tinged with irritation.
"Nothing. Just letting you know." He then straightened himself, handed me the beer and left.

I popped open the tab, downing the vicious brown substance from the can. Damn was the weather hot. I heard him leave as I was halfway through the shower. Fatigue won me over as I settled down onto the bed. I could vaguely make out the sound of merrymaking from the living room; laughter, raucous conversations in Hokkien and lots of booze before falling into a deep sleep.

Suddenly, I felt a hand pressed firmly against my arms, which was held over my head in a captive manner. My room was still dark, the light from the living room streamed in through the small gap of my semi opened door. It shone against the man, and it was unfamiliar silhouette. I wanted to struggle, but I realized my naked bottom was pinned down by his weight. My heart raced as adrenaline coursed through my veins, gathering strength for resistance but all was futile.

I smelt the alcohol in his breath as he bent down to lick me from my ear to my neck. I thrashed desperately and let out a half-projected scream before his free hand was clamped over my mouth. "Kiao, come over. She's resisting." The man called out in Hokkien. I saw another figure approaching, plump and short. He entered the room, reeking of sweat and nicotine. I heard the unfastening of his belt and the clumsy removal of his pants. The metal clasp hit the floor with a loud thud.

He squatted, both hands fastened on my face. I felt his penis rudely rubbing against my mouth. It was soiled with urine and perspiration. The grizzle of his pubic hair rubbed against my cheeks. A wave of nausea swept over me as he shoved his penis through my lips. I tried to bite, but his index fingers were pressed against my jaw, immobilizing my movements. Tears skeltered down my face as I gradually lost the strength to fight.

Another man came in, tall and lanky. He remained fully clothed. The huskiness of his fingers were remnant on my skin as he hastily pulled my top up, revealing my erected nipples. His hands ravaged my breasts, squeezing and groping for all his worth. The first man then proceeded to force his penis into my trembling sex, which was alarmingly wet from the conscripted arousal. The bed creaked under his penetrating movements, rhythm almost in sync with the other two.

I closed my eyes, not wanting to have anymore visual recollection of the awful experience, my body conceding to their unholy acts. The short man then switched positions with the first one, stuffing his paltry excuse of a manhood into me. The first man yanked violently at my hair, letting out distasteful groans as he jerked off, his grip tightening as he achieved orgasm, his semen spewed across my face.

The potbellied one subsequently ejaculated too, the warm liquid ricocheted across my body before pooling into my navel button. The dirtiness i felt stung on my face, penetrating every cell of my body in poignant disgrace. I curled into a ball, hands over my sore nipples and swollen labia as one by one, the men left my room. I had no idea what to do. The hatred and anger boiling up in me was fought down by the logical side of my brain, knowing i can never win them in a head-on fight.

I reached out for my clothes, stumbled out of bed and locked the door. Tears running amok, I sat down on the cold hard floor, hands folded over my bent knees. I rocked violently, still shivering from the aftermath of the rape. Footsteps receded in the living room as the men then left the house. I heard the locking of the main door. It meant that my dad was in the house. Allowing them to rape his daughter, sitting through the entire process.

The thought hit me so hard that I could almost see a literal slash across my heart. I crawled over to my phone. It was 4 in the morning. Should I call the police? But my dad was my only kin. Was that really what I want? Put my dad in jail?

I clenched my fists, my heart wanting to be left in disdain. Every ounce of courage, every fiber of strength was drained away, leaving nothing but harrowed helplessness. I stared point blank into the devouring blackness of the night, deflecting all emotions simply because I couldn't bear anymore. The rape seemed to have scorched a scar onto my brain, spreading its twisted fingers of humiliation and infamy.

Pressing firmly against my pubic area, I clawed at the lips of my sex, as though wanting to erase any traces of testosterone left. Shame hung loosely in the dead of the night as I bit my lips in all that vulnerability. I could still feel the touch of those brazen men, fresh on my skin. And the horrid images stabbed at me like the grim reaper's scythe. I felt so close to death.

"You are too nice, too kind, too forgiving.. too stupid, Violette."I scolded myself. Throwing the phone back onto the desk as I stood up.

I couldn't sleep anymore. And definitely, not going to lie on that bed ever again. I went to the bathroom, scrubbing myself so hard that I bled. But the unclean feeling never left me, plaguing me like leeches. I sat at my desk, taking deep breaths as I tried to console myself. My fingers reached out for the photograph of my mother and I. Shaking, I hugged the photo frame as tears once again sprung and fell onto the glass. I wish I knew how to fix my pathetic life.

I woke up with my head perched on the desk. No one was at home. I checked the clock. It was 2 in the afternoon. I walked out to find a note on the coffeetable. It was for me. Attached was a Charles and Keith shopping bag, and a 50$ note.

"Dear V, I know you won't forgive me. I am sorry. I owe the loansharks alot of money, and those men were willing to give me money to let them do that to you. I am sorry."

I had no idea how to describe the myriad of emotions running through me at that moment as I crushed the note in anger before launching it at the wall where it bounced off with a papery rustle. My love for my dad was held in prosecution within my growing hatred. So my dad was the one who instigated it. Selling his daughter for money.

The Charles and Keith wrapper fell away as I took the bag out from the carrier. It was a beautiful faux snakeskin bag in a vivid purple color. Brass handles showed my reflection, fuzzy from the protective layer of plastic stuck to them. My hands lusted for the leathery feel of the bag. I thought about the well-dressed woman from yesterday and her gorgeous Prada bag. Slumped against the couch, I closed my eyes to the torrent of mixed emotions in my brain. My life is already hellish. What more do I have to lose?

At that moment, was then, I became... me.

lesson 2: the only thing hard about life, isn't the obstacles, but how one chooses to deal with it.