It was already very late when the party ended. I found myself in the parking lot without a ride home. My friend apparently left with a date and failed to notify me. I’m going to need to scold him for leaving me behind, I promised myself. I stood there wondering how I was going to get home when a black Mercedes S500 stopped at my side, the window on the passenger seat slid down. At first I did not recognize the man behind the wheel but his expensive suit was a give away. It was Eric, without the mask on. He was much better looking than I thought. Now his whole image was complete in my imagination, there was finally a face to go with the dashing figure I could not get out of my mind all night.

“Need a ride?” he asked while leaning over and opening the door at my side. The gesture took me by surprise; it was as if he knew I would not say no. Defeated for the first time in my life, I climbed in.

There was silence; the radio was not even on. I could not find the courage to speak to him when my heart was going faster than the car I was in. The scent of his cologne was intoxicating and this time there was a hint of tobacco mingled with it. I knew I needed to strike up a conversation before it got to the point of being uncomfortable. As I opened my mouth to speak he beat me to it.

“So why don’t you take off that silly mask?” he asked.

My face flushed. I totally forgot about the mask on my face. I was so worried about the ride home that I did not think I still had it on. If I could only crawl into a corner and die I would have, then and there.

“Oh!” I faked confidence, “I totally forgot,” I said as I took a deep breath and hoped my face would not be as red as I thought it was.

“That’s better,” he said. He turned and looked at me. For the first time he smiled. God, he was beautiful. My discomfort was so intense that I did not notice the car going into another basement.

“I’m sorry, but this isn’t where I live,” I murmured.

“Obviously, it’s where I live. You did not give me your address so I figured you wanted to come with me,” he said seriously.

Cocky bastard! If I did not know any better, his real intension was to take me to his place from the very beginning. It did not really matter if I gave him my address or not. I did not even know who Eric Santos was and yet I followed him to his apartment. I gave him everything that night. He was a man who knew what he wanted and did everything he could to get it. I was not even much of a challenge. That was the kind of spell he had cast on me. At first it made me feel pathetic but after that night of firsts, I began to know more about this mysterious man whose eyes stopped the earth from revolving.

~*~

After four months of seeing each other, Eric asked if we could live together. The decision was not very hard to make; it just meant that I was farther from the university I was teaching in, a slight inconvenience that I was willing to over look since Eric drove there on the way to work.
It was during this time of domestic bliss when I began noticing little things about him. There were the medications he had to take at certain times of the day. When I asked about them he would change the topic or kiss me so that I would forget. He also smoked while working in the study or winding down after a stressful day. I also got into the habit of fixing him a scotch neat in the evenings, which he drank as I cooked dinner in the kitchen.

We stood there in silence; he never took his eyes off me. I could feel my knees begin to buckle just as my friend appeared beside me, much to my relief. He put his hand on my shoulder and introduced Eric Santos. I muttered a greeting and held out my trembling hand. His long, piano fingers rapped around my palm, his grip firm but gentle.

My friend spoke with him while I remained stunned at the side. They apparently knew each other and started to catch up on things. All I could do was concentrate on his smooth baritone voice, almost lulling me to sleep. This continued for a few more minutes until my friend nudged me out of my rude stare.

“As I was saying, Eric is a friend of mine,” he said.

His tone was almost too malicious for my taste. He gestured toward the man standing before us. All I could manage was a nod of understanding. He looked at me again, this time with a grin on his face, which I later found out meant he was enjoying my discomfort.

“My friend is never this mute,” he smiled at me; the malicious tone was definitely there.

“Don’t worry about it. We were just admiring this portrait of Freud,” he said, changing the subject smoothly.

“Yes, Freud, as you know he is one of the most well known 20th century psychologists,” I said, finally getting my voice back.

Psychology was a topic I loved no matter who I was with, gorgeous or not. We began discussing some seminal ideas when my friend got bored and left me alone once again with the man whom I only knew by name. Again the feeling of uncertainty came over me. What was going to happen between us now? I asked myself. I had never been so uncomfortable in my whole life. Just as I was about to say something the hostess of the party came over, I knew this because before my friend left me he pointed her out just in case I ran into her.

She was a tall woman with long graceful arms and legs that never seemed to end. I am never really interested when it comes to looking at women but she was very difficult to ignore. The black, silk, designer dress she wore did not hide any of her curvy features. Her black hair was in a bun and lips in dark rouge – luscious and seductive. By the way she wrapped her hands around Eric’s left arm it looked as if they were intimate.

“Here you are Eric! I’ve been looking for you,” she said with a smile. Her voice came out in a soft, sensual tone – like a soft, cool breeze on a clear morning. She looked at me and smiled but said nothing. Apparently, the man I was with was more important at the moment.

“My husband needs you,” she whispered into his ear but loud enough for me to hear.

“What does he want now? Doesn’t he ever go on vacation?” he asked in a calm but almost tired tone.

“You know my husband never rests when an opportunity presents itself,” she said while tugging gently on his arm, “now come along and end his misery. I think a client is about to commit to another contract.”

She pulled him towards the opposite direction from where we were standing, but before he went with her he excused himself properly. Very well mannered, I thought, can’t find that many people around anymore. I nodded an understanding to the silent words he uttered.

That was the last time I saw him during the party, much to my disappointment. I wanted to get to know him better and attempt to unravel that intense glare of his. But I quickly resigned myself to mingling with the other guests instead.

I met Eric at a mask party a friend invited me to. I did not really want to come at first but he said that it would be good for me to have fun once in a while. That was the time I had just come to terms with my sexuality and did not really know what to do with me new found self.

The party was formal, with the affluent of Metro Manila in attendance. It was a night of expensive champagne and little crackers with caviar. Coming from a wealthy family, I was used to the atmosphere but was never comfortable in it. My first instinct was to head for the bar at the corner and get a drink. A beer did not seem appropriate at the time so a cosmopolitan was my next choice. Since it was a ladies drink the bartender raised an eyebrow but said nothing and went on with his work. I have always liked “cosmos” as my friends and I call them, the cranberry juice was a perfect compliment to the vodka; a more masculine drink would have been a martini straight up, extra dirty with olives but it was not something I wanted to order.

So with my flamboyantly pink drink in hand I began to move around the spacious living room filled with the chic and trendy. I was so out of place, it was literally a photo-shoot waiting to happen. The friend who brought me disappeared the moment we walked into the door. Left on my own, I was glad for the mask that was hiding my face. I walked around the studio-type apartment and wondered how much the rent was, but we were all strangers in masks so it did not seem to matter at the time.

The space was bigger than mine and located in the heart of Makati, which meant the rent was not cheap; it was all I could think about. The furniture was high end as well, from the solid narra coffee table to the cat-hair fabric on the sofa – white in color. The crystal vase filled with fresh roses, again white in color. Everything was white. It was striking when I finally realized, even the Persian rug I was standing on was predominantly white; I did not even know the Persians used white for their rugs.

I moved to the grand piano – black, thank God – where a hired Jazz artist was playing the latest songs by Nora Jones. It was not the music I was drawn to but the portrait of Sigmund Freud hanging on the wall; among all the psychologists I studied he was the one I favored the most. Now why would he be hanging in a heavenly white apartment like this? I asked myself as I stood staring at the portrait. I was so engrossed with the mystery of the seemingly out of place portrait that I did not notice the person standing next to me.

“You like Freud?” he asked.

“Uhuh…” was all I could utter when I turned to face the man who spoke.

He was holding a goblet of brandy, twirling its contents around to keep the taste from sinking to the bottom; it reminded me of my father since he loved drinking brandy, only the finest from France. A full head taller than I was with an athletic build, the coal grey tailored suit stood out because of all the surrounding white, said it all. His hair was jet-black and straight, which betrayed a little oriental blood in him. But what drew me in were his intense eyes; this man had charisma, which was complimented by expensive cologne. The whole look was expensive, just like the apartment we stood in. His facial features were hidden behind a black, velvet jester’s mask but everything about his stance showed good breeding, elegant like the suit and the brandy.

After taking a sip of his drink he settled his gaze upon me. I did not know what to do with myself as he silently studied me, a hunter looking at his next prey. His stare was calculating and if it were not for the buccaneer mask covering my face, he would have seen my blush. It was the first time I had blushed in front of a man and who would not when faced with someone so gorgeous? Handsome seemed like such a weak word to describe him.