Daylight dawned onto Martin
Ventura's face. He was lying completely naked on Luke Fong's bed with its
Egyptian terra cotton cloth and bold blue sheets (now tossed aside in a
haphazard manner.) He looked down and
noticed Luke's cute tuff of black hair between his legs, gently bobbing up and
down. He could feel the warmth of Luke's mouth cradling his penis, soaking his
nerves with quiet frustration and pure ecstasy.
He felt his
orgasm coming and he held tighter to it. He didn't want to let it go. But he
couldn't control it so he resolved to let it go.
"I'm going
to come," he gasped quietly, massaging Luke's soft hair.
Luke was busy
down there but Martin faintly heard him mumble: "Come for me, baby." Then he let it flow free like a
silvery river. And when it the rush was over, he pushed his head back onto
Luke's soft cotton pillows. Luke crawled back up to Martin and nuzzled himself
against Martin's chiseled pectorals.
"Oh my
god," Martin finally said, "that was amazing!"
"You're
amazing," Luke smirked cutely and kissed Martin softly on the cheek.
Martin grinned. He could feel the warm sunlight touch his face. It was almost
too perfect.
Suddenly they heard
the front door slam. In walked a pretty Chinese girl, with flowing long black
hair. She was wearing a business dress suit. It was Annie, Luke's roommate.
And her mouth was semi-open at the sight of the two naked men together.
"We're busy
right now," Luke looked up at Annie embarassingly.
Annie gave him a
look that assured him that she was no longer shocked at the sight of two fully
naked men together.
"Well,"
Annie smiled, "I'll leave you two to your business." She grinned at Luke and walked towards her room.
Cafe Flore was extremely crowded that morning. Soft jazz music sailed
through the background drowned out by the sound of furiously clinking glasses
and plates. The aroma of freshly basked croissants and steaming scrambled eggs
waifed through the café. Tyler, Devin and Ryan were waiting for Martin so they
could do their Wednesday morning ritual of pre-cooked breakfast. Another bright
and busy day in the city was about to happen.
Finally, Martin Ventura happily walked through the double doors of the
cafe. He was wearing a bright blue track jacket, a muscular gray shirt and
coffee-colored khakis, in addition to the brilliant ear-to-ear smile on his
face. He was on the phone with Luke.
“That was so funny!” Martin smiled as he walked towards his friends and
spoke to his boyfriend on the phone. “Okay, babe, I’ve gotta go. I’m with the
gays again.” Another pause. "No," Martin laughed towards his phone.
"You hang up." A brief pause. Tyler looked up warily "You didn't
hang up!” Martin chortled again. “No, you hang up…no, you hang up
"
Finally, a frustrated Tyler grabbed Martin's peach colored cell phone out
of his hands and pushed the power button. He thrust the cellphone back into
Martin's hands.
"Fine," Martin muttered.
"Sweetheart," Devin smiled leeringly to Martin. "You had
better register your wedding at Macy's because I'm not going all out at Louis
Voutton."
"Seriously, " Ryan sipped a warm mug of frothy chai, "You
two sound like you're married." Martin sat down and smiled.
"And the sex?" Ryan took another sip. He knew what Martin wanted
to tell them.
Martin sighed as he sat back down on the chair. He smiled broadly at Ryan.
"The sex is amazing," he
sighed. "If any two men could feel so deeply connected with each other and
with each others bodies, it would be the two of us."
"He made you come three times," Barry took a bite of his
croissant. Some of the jam dripped onto his white shirt. Martin quickly turned
to Barry. "So what if he did?" he exclaimed. "Even if he could
only do it once, it was well worth
it. But no, he just kept going and going and it was sooo hot!!!"
In the midst of the rushing crowds of people running in and out with their
small brown paper bags of goodies, a woman with soft brown skin, gold earings
and curly and long brown hair walked into the room. Her bold brown eyes with
heavy mascara overshadowed her caffe latte skin.
"Cousin Jenny," Martin rolled his eyes. "What the fuck are
you doing here? I know that there is no Ross Dress for Less in the Castro.
"
"I also know that the Salvation Army isn't here," Jenny snapped
back, addressing Martin's overly tacky pink vintage shirt and ripped jeans.
They both looked at each other with daggers in their eyes. And then they
suddenly laughed and embraced. Martin's other friends gave each other looks of
confusion.
"Guys, this is my cousin Jenny!" Martin laughed and turned his
cousin around to greet the guys. Jenny waved a thick hand wrapped with clinky
silver jewelery. Her fingernails were painted pure pink.
"So what brings you to Gayville?" Martin asked.
"Martin," Jenny suddenly turned very serious and sat down.
"Do you know what is going on tonight?"
Martin pulled out his silver Palm Pilot and started to tap it furiously
with his copper stylus. "Let's see...there's Happy Hour at the
End-Up...Suds and Studs night at Eros...bowling night with GAPA...."
"Your father's retirement party," Jenny finally answered. Martin
froze. He quickly grabbed her arm. "Excuse me for a moment," Martin
said and he dragged Jenny towards the direction of the opposite exit, with her
clinking jewelry behind her.
"How dare you talk about my
parents to me right now!" Martin
suddenly got extremely furous. "You know what they did to me the last time
I went to their party!"
"I know it was not right for auntie to bring up the sex operation
again," Jenny replied quickly, "but it wasn't right for you to stomp
out like hissyfit drama queen you are!"
"Well," Martin rolled his eyes, "At least I know who I am." He folded his hands in
defiance. "And if my parents think they can run their straight-fantasies
all over me, then they’ve got another thing coming!”
"I don't completely know all the issues that you and your parents are
dealing with," Jenny started again, "but you can make it somewhat
better by at least showing up to your father's retirement party." Jenny
looked seriously at Martin. "He doesn't say it out loud to you but it
would mean the entire world to him if you came tonight," Jenny replied,
"You know why he can't tell you that. It's because he's a Filipino man and they tend to be so stuck up. But
please consider it at least, Martin."
Jenny and Martin walked back to the table and Martin sat back down. His
lips pursed in a frown. Jenny looked at the group of men and tried to feign a
smile. “It was nice meeting all of you,” she said. She walked out of Café Flore
with the jazz music and her bracelets singing down the street.
Ryan stared at Martin with shock. Martin quickly turned away, closing his
eyes. Barry continued to eat quietly with Tyler. Devin looked at his clock and
realized that all of that drama had taken quite some time.
“I’ve got to go to work so I’ll call you all later,” Devin said.
“I’m so jealous of Devin,” Barry said. “In my days, we didn’t have jobs
that gay men could smile about.”
“In your days,” Tyler snapped, “gay men rode dinosaurs to work!” He feigned
some kind of laughter. Ryan joined him and looked and Martin. Martin was still
looking away.
Devin's job is the dream job of many
queer men. Who wouldn't reject a high-paying job that involves looking at
attractive and muscular bodies and attending some of the most extravagant
parties in San Francisco? Devin worked as an official party organizer for
BoyHeaven Inc., a heavily competitive official gay party promoter.
As Devin slid
through silver steel double doors of his office, he entered a world where time
stood still. Here, fifty-year-old men oogled at shirtless young male models as
they planned the next models for a rave campaign. Another group of party
planners were deciding whether the go-go boys for another club opening should
be wearing boxers or briefs (or even boxer briefs). If Heaven indeed existed,
it was BoyHeaven and the employees were quite pleased.
His first stop
was the small Starbucks franchise located past the main entrance. He could hear
the whirring sounds of the coffee machine. The barrista, Maxine, was a friendly
girl with fiery red hair tied-back. She wore a bright green Starbucks apron and
looked like Christmas.
"I'll have
my double-shot espresso latte with nonfat milk," Devin immediately said.
"Double-shot?"
Maxine grinned. "Let me guess, board meeting today?"
Devin took his
steaming plastic cup of coffee. "You bet.”
Devin's agency
office was his only sanctuary from the overhyped hormonal workplace. A small zen fountain calmed his quiet
nerves. Devin threw off his coat and sat at his comfortable pleather black office
chair. He pulled out his silver iBook. He was starting to launch his Powerpoint
presentation when he heard a knock on the door.
The door slid
open and the new BoyHeaven intern popped his face through the door. He was an
attractive African-American man with a shaved head with tight features- soft
black eyes, large and smooth coconut lips and a chiseled nose, and rounded
jaw.
And in his hand
was Devin's double-shot espresso latte with non-fat milk.
"Maxine says
hi," he said in his deep Texan drawl, "Mr. Lancaster, sir."
Devin smiled as
he closed his laptop. He had never been called "sir" before.
"Just call me Devin," he told the man. "You may have only been here for a few weeks, Blair Bentley,
but the quickest way out is if you ever
address your supervisors as old. Especially Mr. Michael Kinsey."
"Then you
are wise, not old," Blair responded. "I wanted to wish you luck on
your presentation today."
"I'm going
to need it," Devin said as he closed his laptop, "if I'm going to
convince these wolves that I can pull off another club party. Mahoney's very
jealous and he is going to do anything to change the board's opinion."
Blair handed Devin his cup of coffee. Their hands almost touched, melding a mix
of chocolate and cream. Devin quickly grabbed the plastic cup.
"I think you
can handle them," Blair stammered. "I believe in you." He
smiled, expressing his perfect pearly white teeth.
"At least
someone believes in me," Devin smiled back. "Thank you." Blair
left and made one quick look back at Devin. Devin quietly slid the door and
held the cup of coffee, still feeling the warmth of Bentley's hands all over
it. He smiled.
CEO Michael Kinsey called the board meeting
to order. BoyHeaven's board room looks like an average corporate board room.
Instead of works of art, the walls contained pictures of shirtless men from
past parties they organized.
"The suits
were impressed with Mr. Lancaster's Club Earth premiere." Devin blushed lightly. "And they
requested Lancaster to be the prime project coordinator for White Party this
year." An attendant started passing out bold white folders to the board
member. "This year's White Party will take place at the Hyatt Regency
Embacadero following the Mayor's Annual Christmas celebration so we're going to
have to act quickly. Fortunately, Mr. Lancaster is already one step ahead and
has created a presentation for Skyy Blue’s board next week.” He looked at Devin
with cold steel in his eyes. "Is your proposal ready, Mr. Lancaster?"
"Yes,"
Devin smiled nervously as he addressed the board. Devin turned on his silver
powerpoint laptop and his computer screen appeared on the wide-screen
projector. At the center of Devin's desktop was a topless photo of Kyan Douglas
from Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. "Whoops!" Devin turned around
and suddenly realized his mistake. Blair tried to hide a snicker.
"Member of
the board," Devin started to say. "For this year's White Party, I've
chosen the theme of ice to match the freezing cold weather of San Francisco.
Just picture it." He revealed his Powerpoint design and the front cover
was a young muscular white man almost transparent like an ice sculpture.
He spoke as the
images of his fantasy white party appeared on Powerpoint. "The dance floor
is decked out in pure white. Fake snow accompanied by dry ice smoke. Frigid ice sculptures chiseled out of the
hands of the gods in Mt. Olympus themselves that come to life for our viewing
pleasure. And an ice rink where shirtless figure skaters enact the fantasies we
have of Russian male ice skater in tights. Chilled glasses of wine and vodka
all around and at midnight. And at midnight, soap suds fall from the sky like fake
snow enveloping the dance floor in a winter wonderland."
Silence. Devin
looked around nervously.
"I'm not
that frigid is a word that I'd like connected with my man," the one known
as Mahoney said coldly.
"Your idea
of fake snow would make the ground slippery," another board member said.
"Wouldn't an ice rink be a little bit too slippery for people to dance
on?" he asked. No, Devin wanted to tell them, everyone would
have already found someone to hook up with by midnight.
Kinsey looked at Blair. "You've been
here for a few weeks so you are entitled to your opinion as well, Mr.
Bentley," he said. "What do you think?
"I think Mr.
Lancaster's presentation is flawed, sir," Blair said shockingly. Devin's
jaw dropped.
"Ah an
infidel," Kinsey replied, "now what would you do to make it
better?"
"With all do
respect sir," Blair stammered. "I like Mr. Lancaster's idea of
incorporating weather as a theme for White Party. But I also think that the
participants will be busy thinking about how cold San Francisco is when they
are outside of the Hyatt. But inside, the participants will be focused on only
one thing- sex. Who, where and when they will hook up with that supposed Mr.
Right-Now is the only top priority of many White Party participants."
Blair looked
around and saw that the stoic board members were listening. "Rather than
the theme of ice, or water, I think we should celebrate with the theme of
fire," Blair continued a little bit more stronger. "Fire. The heat of
our unmentioned passions, love and lust. It is the prime reason why so many
people attend White Party."
With every word,
Blair grew more confident in himself. "This is how I see it. Blazing red
spotlights. Tropical palm trees. Maybe even several shirtless muscular flame
throwers." Some of the board member nodded and licked their lips."
Devin's heart sank. Blair felt like he was speaking to the choir. "What
Mr. Lancaster has done is re-introduce us to a theme that White Party generally
follows," he said. "Well, I say, let's break those conventional
standards. Let's be controversial. After all, that is what makes our
relationships and our experiences as powerful as they are. "
Silence. Blair
stood as still as a statue. A small drop of sweat was starting to form at the
top of his luminous bald head. Devin also looked nervously around the room.
Kinsey folded his arms.
"It's
winter…but the city is getting hotter," Kinsey finally said. He leaned
back and nodded his head. "I like it." He nodded and pointed to Devin. "Lancaster, Bentley is your
new project assistant. I'm sure that his youthful experience will help you in
organizing this event."
Devin gulped.
"Thank you, sir." He slammed
his iBook shut.
Day quickly fell
into night and city's true lights burned brightly. Tall buildings whose office
lights were still alive even though they were clearly empty. And on the
backdrop of San Francisco’s foggy nights, these window lights stood out like
stars in the sky.
Ryan and Martin
walked up to one particular tall Market St. office building, which included
Bank of America's Western headquarters.
A tall, cold black marble sculpture resembling the economist's heart
greeted them. Martin was wearing a screaming pink professional shirt and pants.
Ryan had opted for a metallic red shirt from Armani Exchange and plaited black
pants from Banana Republic. They could have looked like boyfriends at that
moment.
Martin pouted.
"Do I really have to do this?"
Ryan looked at him.
"This was your decision," he said. "I'm here for moral support."
Martin continued to frown. "Look, if you can't bear to be in there for
more than 15 minutes, we'll leave and get shit-faced at The Cafe." He
tried to smile encouragingly.
"Great,"
Martin muttered as he slammed through the revolving door and into the marble
halls of the building. "Remind me to slap myself the next time I date a
wonderful guy who happens to also know my parents."
"At least
you won't have to worry about them meeting him when you guys get married,"
Ryan sighed.
After 45 years of
dedicated service to San Francisco’s Bank of America headquarters as investment
director of Asian municipalities, Vincent Ventura was now saying farewell to
the company that helped him raise five children, one wife’s material needs and
two dogs. Mr. Ventura had enough stress lines on his forehead on his swollen
coconut forehead to indicate his years of service. He was wearing the
traditional Filipino barong, a white and faintly see-through dress shirt
with a lacy opening at the neckline. He definitely stood out of the businessmen
and professionals dressed up in Armani, Prada and Gucci who were saying
farewell to him. On his arm was Margaret Ventura, who was looking voluptuous in
a grass-green silk dress. Her hair was up in a bun and she decorated her bun
with Swarovski crystal clips. Margaret, the woman who had birthed five
children, was looking as radiant as Imelda Marcos.
The office was
decorated for joyfully. White candles surrounded the office building. In the
background, a professional pianist played Beethoven as well-dressed waiters
walked around carrying steaming silver platters of delicacies from all over the
world…and also from Margaret Ventura’s kitchen.
Vincent made no
hesitation to show off his trophy son. “Martin,” Vincent said, “I want you to
meet someone. This is Ken Watanabe and his partner Joseph Stanfield," he
said. "Watanabe is the president of Bank of America’s Western
Region." Watanabe was a distinguished Japanese man in his 60s, wearing an
extremely professional business suit and metallic blue tie.
“It’s nice to
meet the men who employed and put up with my father for so long,” Martin
feigned jovially. He was used to his parents introductions and knew exactly what
he needed to do to survive. Smile and shut up.
“Actually,”
laughed Stanfield, who was a 55-year-old husky white man with laugh lines. “I
don’t work for Bank of America. If I did, I would be stressed out all the time.
I’m the senior manager for F.A.O. Schwartz.”
"Mr.
Stanfield is my domestic partner," Watanabe interjected. He kissed
Stanfield's hand. Martin was surprised. He did not expect this. His father’s
boss was gay? “I hear that you are one of the leading managers at Macy*s’ male
department store,” Watanabe addressed Martin. “Your father must be very proud
of you.”
Martin’s father placed his shoulder on
Martin’s side, allowing Martin to feel the warmth. “Yes,” Mr. Ventura nodded.
“Yes, I am.” His respect for his father was suddenly increasing for the first
time in the twenty-eight years of his life.
He could not believe what his father
just said. Martin did not know how to react, but inside the mental shock welled
up in a new sense of warmth. Well, Vincent did introduce Martin to Luke in the
first place. Margaret Ventura stood in one distance, tears welling up in her
eyes, before she nudged a whole group of young staff members to try her
homemade spinach lumpia. At another corner, Jenny was nursing a warm
cosmopolitan in a martini glass with Ryan beside him.
"I'm
impressed," Jenny told Ryan. "What did you say to convince him to
come tonight?" Ryan smiled.
"I told him
that regardless of whether or not his parents can ever respect his
lifestyle," he started to say as he sipped a tonic water, "he needs
to take the moral high ground and show that he actually cares for them.”
Jenny continued
to fold her arms and look icily at Ryan. “What did you really say?” He
sighed. "Cute guys in tight business suits." Jenny nodded contentedly
and started to drink her cosmopolitan.
As the music went on and the champagne started to overflow, Martin’s
attention veered off from being his father’s trophy son to Luke. Luke was
hanging out with Annie and his co-workers, fellow accountants from Bank of
America and they were all Chinese like Luke. These Asian Adonises in their
tight business suits would have definitely been eye candy for Martin and Ryan
but as Martin happily walked towards the punch bowl, he overheard their
conversation.
“Dude,” said one of the guy’s friends, “did you see what Ventura’s son is
wearing?” He was addressing Martin’s screaming pink business shirt. “That’s
just so gay.” Luke cringed a little bit in his own tight business suit and
striped black tie.
Another of the guys rolled his eyes. "Oh, he's one of them." He flicked his wrist quickly
and the other guys chortled, including Luke. Except Luke's laughter was stifled
with small gasps.
“Is the whole world becoming gay?”
"It's like he should have had a daughter
rather than a son," Luke added finally. The other guys chrotled as
they clinked their glasses. Martin almost dropped his glass.
“Don’t,” Ryan started to tell Martin. Too late.
"That is extremely rude of you!" Martin walked up to Luke, fuming mad.
Luke feigned confusion. "Do I know you?" he stared icily at Martin.
"Yeah," Martin snapped angrily. "I'm the daughter of the retiree, according to you."
"You're also pretty nosy," Luke said coldly. Martin was mentally shocked by how Luke was reacting to him. "We are going to miss your father terribly. He was a good man."
"I'm sure you will," Martin rolled his eyes at Luke. "So, Luke, if you knew that I was the son of the retiring executive assistant, then how come you didn't tell me about his retirement party.
Luke was trapped. His secret would soon come out. His friends were staring at him warily. How did Luke and this flamboyant faggot know each other? "Well," Luke feigned, "I was busy preparing for it with my girlfriend that I must've forgotten to tell you." He looked at Martin coldly. "Don't you have some gay bar to crash tonight?"
Martin looked at Luke with Shock.
"My girlfriend," Luke emphasized and nudged at Martin. He held Annie tighter. Annie smiled and waved as if nothing was wrong. Martin's jaw mentally dropped.
"I see," Martin said crestfallen. "Well, the next time you and your friends come to a fancy and sophisticated soiree as this one, TAKE YOUR HOMOPHOBIC TRASH-TALKING BACK TO CHINATOWN WHERE IT BELONGS!" The loudness of Martin's voice suddenly caused the piano t ostop and all of a sudden, everyone was looking at him.
"Oh
my God," Ryan looked into his martini glass, pretending that he did not
hear Martin Ventura making yet another scene at another hetero-friendly soiriee.
Martin walked up to Ryan and kissed him on the cheek. "Hey love,"
he said and stared at Luke fiercely. "Let's go. I'm not feeling well."
They walked past Luke hand-in-hand.
"Yeah," Ryan stammered. "Martin isn't feeling so well. I mean,
feel his forehead
"Susmariose!" Mrs. Ventura replied after touching her fuming son's
fuming forehead. "It's a fever!!! Ryan, please take Martin home and I'll
bring over some of my miraculous chicken soup tomorrow."
Martin and Ryan walked towards the elevator. "I can't believe your mom
fell for that,
"My mom always thinks I'm sick," Martin replied coldly as he tightened
his jacket. "I can't believe that Luke thinks that I'm sick too."