The Tourist And The Man With Cold Hands: A Two-Part Erotic-Romance Short Story Series

Part Two: The Man With Cold Hands' Point of View 

I am sitting right now on this rooftop bar. The view is nice and the cocktail is good. Everyone is having a good time, everybody is with someone, a contrast to my existing situation.

I decided to take a break from my family and friends just today and I don't know how long this will be. 

It has been two days already since I broke up with my girlfriend. People have been texting and calling me, asking for my reasons why I dumped her. But, I don't know how to answer it because if I do, I will have to disclose my current confusion—my sexual orientation. 

So, instead of being forced into telling my harsh reality, I decided to just check-in in this cheap hotel and turn off my phone. 

I want to have peace, I want to thoroughly assess myself and this would only be possible if I will cut myself off from everyone inside my circle. 

I released a deep sigh, this is just too much. I am contemplating if it was a good idea that I put an end to my two years heterosexual relationship or I should've just kept my silence and buried the truth and continued with my life. 

As my thoughts are getting deeper and deeper, a young East Asian-looking man with rust-colored hair entered the bar. 

I tried not to be disturbed by his charming presence but my vision is trying so hard to catch him. 

I clenched my fist. Am I really that gay to be

easily attracted to a random cute man? 

I felt indecent. I shouldn't behave like this. This is not the teaching of our church. 

The man sat in front of my spot and started chugging his beer as if it was just water, a complete contrast to his innocent look. 

I grinned and went back to thinking about my problem. 

As I observe the beautiful city lights, I turned around and saw the adorable young man in front looking at me, biting his lips.

I immediately felt a heat on my cheeks but I tried to hide it and composed myself. 

An idea immediately had struck me. 

How will I know if I am really into a man if I'm not gonna try to approach one and see what I would feel with it? 

And so, I decided to stare back at him. He's not bad, he is really attractive and his hair suits him, so much so that out of all the people in here, he stood out. 

Before I even gather the courage to stand and approach the stranger, I saw him standing up and walk towards me. 

He is inviting me to his table.

My heartbeat went faster. I did not expect that an innocent-looking man whom I thought is shy is standing in front of me, asking me to sit with him. 

I appreciated his courage and confidence. 

I accepted his invite and placed myself at his table. We ordered more drinks but this time with some snacks. 

I can tell this is going to be a long night. 

He is so funny. He told me all these absurd and silly real-life stories he had while touring different places, alone. 

He is wonderful, more wonderful than the beauty of the city lights around us.

After a few more drinks, I don't know what has come up to me, but I started to notice the little beautiful things about him.

How he bites his lips constantly, how he blushes when laughing, how he has this long fair flawless neck that would probably make Dracula insane, how he has this light-brown eyes that seem to be a translucent window to his soul, how his eye shape is as sharp as an intimidating cat which is a huge contradiction to his genuine vibrant smile that can light up a room. 

Everything about him is just so precious and I wanna have him, even just for tonight. 

And at exactly 1:43 am, I gathered enough courage to reject my fear of exploring the unexplored side of my sexuality when I asked permission if I could accompany him back to his room.

We walked past through these hallways that seem to contain our voices, letting me hear clearly the voice of this stranger that is just so lovely, I severely appreciated my ability to hear.

Finally, we are in front of his room. He slightly opened the door and turned around.

Dang! he looks good. 

His pale and fair complexion in contrast to the earth-colored door behind him made him so visible that I thought for a second his skin is emitting light. 

He asked me if I would want to spend my night with him. 

I froze. I don't know how to respond. Not until he bit his lips probably starting to be embarrassed by my silence that might be a sign of my refusal to his generous invitation. 

I don't know if it was the beer, his charm, or my unexplored identity but I grabbed his tiny waist and kissed him aggressively. 

His lips are so soft I can probably tear them off if I want to. 

I can smell the beer on his mouth and so the sweet scent of his lip gloss that seemed to withstand the beers he drank earlier. 

For a few minutes, we are at the door passionately kissing. This was my first time kissing a man and I don't know if it is particularly him, but I can tell I'm enjoying his lips more than my ex-girlfriend's. 

There is a satisfying feeling with it as if I just released myself from over two decades of being imprisoned inside my known identity—me being straight my entire life. 

I closed the door and guided the man to his bed who is visibly enjoying my thin red lips by closing his eyes and feeling my kisses supported with a tongue. 

I undressed him. Slowly, I became more aware of how he exudes sexiness not just on the face but also on the body. 

He has this thin figure with the right amount of fat in the thighs and on his buttocks. 

The lights are turned off, only the lamp beside us and the city lights beyond the windows bestowed me the privilege of seeing his expensive features in this dark cheap four-cornered room. 

With his eyes currently gazing at me, I started to notice the sparks on them. I began to think he is in love with me which I tried to diminish—no one falls in love after a few hours of meeting. 

He put himself on top of me. I froze to death when I began to think about what to do next. Should I fuck him in the ass already, should I blow him or should I let him blow me?

I have no freaking idea how to continue this. 

He grinned when it became too obvious that I don't really know what to do next. My hands feel cold. I feel lost, I feel confused.

My heart fluttered when he held my hands, looked at me, and started kissing me again so passionately. 

I think it was his subtle way of telling me that I shouldn't be worried and that I am not alone right now. 

I was so touched by it that I've dared to take the lead and kneeled on the mattress, putting his tiny hairless body between my two hairy muscular thighs. I positioned myself near his hole. My common sense partnered with my intense libido kicked in and I started to wet my manhood and his hole. With the help of my spit, I've successfully inserted my manhood inside him.

Finally, we are connected and it feels so good. 

I heard him moan. That moan turned me on, so much so I pressed his skinny body against the bed and started to penetrate him aggressively. 

Like a mad man, I punished this adorable innocent-looking young man with a tight hole by pounding him so hard like I don't have a nearly ten-inch cock. 

This was my first time screwing a man and it feels so good as if I found my long-lost self.

I couldn't help myself, the harder I become to him, the harder he moans, and the harder I will treat him. It was like a cycle. 

After an hour of our sexual intercourse, I was hit by a realization that I am further poisoning my mind into believing that I am gay. 

I should be the first one stopping it but look at me right now, I just fucked this man mercilessly, adding more flames to the already scorching transition of how I see myself. 

I have nothing against gay people but in my case, it would be a lot more effort to change myself from a straight man to a gay guy. 

I have been heterosexual for twenty-five years, I don't think I would be able to handle starting another life as a homosexual. 

I am already twenty-five years old. I should've done this exploration or metamorphosis or whatever you call it during my teenage years way back in high school. 

And so, I insisted to immediately go back to my rented room. The man tried to convince me into staying with him for the rest of the night but I refused, I refused to be stuck in this growing confusion.

I don't want to spoil myself in this newly discovered identity of mine, I don't want to be too attached to this precious stranger, I don't want to stay to any of these. 

I helped myself and proceeded to leave the room, I left the man naked underneath his white blanket, looking so sad and disappointed. 

In my room, I couldn't sleep. 

How can I? I've just had my very first sexual intercourse with a man which, surprisingly, I enjoyed so much. But more than that, I couldn't erase the memory of the stranger earlier, especially before I left him.

Those sad hazel eyes that seem to beg for me to stay, those melancholic little red lips that seem to hold back words of declination of me leaving. 

The stranger's memory is haunting me. 

I drank more alcoholic beverages inside my room wishing it might knock me off and bless me a good night's sleep but it didn't. 

After more than an hour of being back in my room, I found myself walking in the narrow hallways directed to the room that temporarily welcomed the lovely man earlier. 

As I stand in front of his room, I started to touch the cheap wooden door as if I have the power to see what's taking place behind it. 

I wanna sleep beside him so bad, I wanna feel his hugs, I wanna hear his voice, I wanna stare at his face, I wanna fall asleep with his skin touching mine. I want him even just for the remaining night before the sun grows behind the skyline of Manila.

I long for him. I long for his presence. I long for the freedom he has given me when I was with him. 

But, I can't. I can't knock on his door as I would look foolish, longing for his company when I already decided to leave him earlier. 

I wish there will be a miracle and the door would open, revealing behind it the beautiful man that captured my heart. 

I walked away from his door, I'm too scared to even make a sound. I then leaned towards the white walls beside it for a few minutes. The regrets of leaving him earlier are so intense I'm too weak to even stand on my own. 

Looking down, I started to cry. I don't know if it was the alcohol kicking in or just my plain emotion but my tears fell. 

I'm so confused. 

Who am I? 

What am I? 

Am I gay? 

Am I in love? 

My identity crisis and my unexpected longing for that tourist are all mixing up in my head. This is too much for me. 

I then walked back to my room with a heavy heart.

I haven't noticed but it's already morning. I realized it when I felt the need to eat something. I'm starving. As I walk into this hotel's lobby, I stumbled upon the stranger last night. This time, looking so cool with his jacket and skinny jeans, a very different look from his semi-formal-innocent to the real-world look last night when we first met.

I gave him a bittersweet smile for unknown reasons and proceeded to walk into a café near the lobby beside the pool. I was so embarrassed that I disappointed him last night and I feel stupid that I stumbled upon him twice, but still haven't got his number, email, or even name by now. 

I turned around and saw him walking in a direction where there is a huge avenue with jeepneys parked on the side waiting to deliver passengers throughout Manila. 

If I let him ride one of those jeepneys I'm going to lose him forever, that is for sure. Manila is huge and he is a tourist. I don't even know when he will leave this enormous concrete jungle. 

So, I ran in his direction where I saw him ride this jeep with colorful drawings all around it going to Divisoria. 

The heat outside combined with the pollution in the air accentuates my headache for drinking too much all night and not having a sleep. 

On the open windows of the jeepney he is currently in, I put my head inside and said with a very masculine voice and inviting tone, "Can you at least have breakfast with me first before leaving, Mister?"

He looked at me with a surprised face. He is much more charming when shocked. 

He nodded his head partnered with a smile so wide I can see the beautiful ivory white set of teeth he has and went back to the hotel with me. 

Will I ever have the courage to face the truth that I am not a straight guy everybody in my circle knows anymore? 

Will I ever have the strength to face the reality that I was really charmed by this adorable stranger overnight, like a love at first sight scenario that only happens in the movies?

Is this breakfast going to be a way of me knowing his basic information such as getting his cellphone number and name to keep in touch the moment he went on on his trip? 

I don't know. What I know though is that I am walking back inside this cheap hotel with the man that captured my heart to have breakfast. And if in case, this would be the last time I would be sitting at a table with him, I am going to make the most out of it. 

Wish me luck.