*Larita Kutsarita - n. see THE AUTHOR
*Spoonfuls - n. articles/dispatches/scribbles by Larita Kutsarita
(Background photo by Aiess Alonso)

Monday, March 2, 2009

Magdalene Rests (fiction)

Eva,” she whispered, her breath perfumed by the double-mint gum that she had been chewing after her eleven o’ clock dinner. It was just 11:30, and the first car that pulled up was a white, brand new Rav4. It might be her lucky night.
“Hop on, Eva,” a husky, male voice said.
She could barely see the man in the dull yellow cast by the streetlight against the dark Timog alley. But she didn’t get paid to pick out beautiful faces. The beautiful cars. They are the standard.
“Are you getting in or not?” His tone was calm, as if finding another woman with a name more exotic than Eva was as easy as driving round the corner. Well, it was.
“Hang on,” she quipped. She might’ve sounded desperate for her next sentence was a well-modulated, deep, and certain “you can’t afford me.”
“Name your price.” This guy was obviously a big shot, she thought.
“Ten. One night. No kissing.”
Just like that, Eva was in the Rav4. She couldn’t believe it. She was chewing her gum furiously. She could’ve asked for a higher amount. 15 thousand, probably. But ten wasn’t so bad for a Monday night. First client, too.
“On one condition,” his voice filled the car as he drove along the hidden avenue that led to the highway. “No alcohol and cigar, I hate the stench. No pills, no weeds, no mushroom, no needles, or anything of the weird sort. If you’re going to use the comfort room, I’ll have to keep watch.” The man turned to Eva, the headlights illuminating his face. He had deep-set eyes and an aquiline nose. His lips were so little, one could hardly see them move. It suddenly dawned on her that the owner was as handsome as his car.
“Oh, that won’t be necessary, I already peed. And besides, I’m allergic to all that…weird sort,” said Eva in her slow drawl. She was smiling. The man was a dreamboat. And his pockets seemed to be as desirable, too.
“I don’t like that periwinkle outfit, either,” he said.
“It’s blue.” Eva’s eyes widened at his mockery. She fixed the straps of her dress and shuffled in her seat.
“Whatever. I have a halter dress for you. Size 4. You’ll fit in it, won’t you?” he surveyed her with his deep eyes before making the U-turn.
“I am quite thin, thank you. But I don’t think I need that dress, sir. We’ll just get down to business, and you’ll be hotter than you’ve ever been that you’ll beg me to lick you down there with ice cubes in my mouth. I guarantee that you’ll be moaning my name, asking for more,” she said as she pulled down her spaghetti straps down her shoulders, her face inches from his.
“Could you please get rid of that gum? Oh, and if you have any tattoo, do cover it with a concealer or something.” His eyes didn’t shift from the road for even a second.
“I ain’t got no ink. I told you I’m allergic to needles,” she retorted as she pulled her straps back in place.
“And the gum?”
Most men would flip for Eva’s “subtle skills of seduction,” or so the other girls would call them. But this one—this mysterious, stunning driver—was impossible to please.
“Please dispose of the gum.”
Eva sighed and spat the gum out, wrapping it up in tissue paper. She fought the temptation of sticking it onto the car seat, but she thought about the ten grand and decided against it.
“Thank you,” he said, smiling for the first time. The smile was so endearing that she forgot all about his earlier offenses.
“Okay, you may keep that dress so long as you keep your skirt down. You’re having Noche Buena with my clan. You’ll meet my parents, my siblings, my cousins, my friends, everyone very dear to me. This is the story: you’re my girl and we’re incredibly happy. We met at the Le Cabaret Gala last September and we’ve been going out eversince. You work in sales but dream of putting up your business someday,” he instructed quite nervously. “Oh, and you’re 20 years old, so they’ll excuse your naivete for youth. And I’m Rupert, by the way. I’m gay, and I prefer that the world doesn’t know of it.” Rupert offered his free hand, smiling shyly at Eva.
“Eva. I think I’m fine with Eva.” She shook his hand and laughed.
“Right. Oh, and merry Christmas to you…Eva.”
“Merry Christmas, sistah!”
Eva leaned comfortably on her seat and gazed out the window, watching Manila’s December passing by: thousands of shimmering Santa Claus and reindeer figures as well as nativity scenes, of Christmas lights, and of parol happily hung around the city.

(Writer's note: above is a flash fiction that I did for my Creative Writing 110: Fiction class. I had to start writing with nothing but these random words: Eva, mushroom, ice cubes, tattoo, streetlight, periwinkle. I wove a little story out of 'em, also had them in bold letters, if you noticed)