What Kind of Day

by Mina V. Esguerra

  “See?” He said instead. “You think it’s corny.”

  “I think you need practice being sneaky. I can’t even believe I’m telling a lawyer and a senator’s speechwriter this, but the best thing for you is for me to do the thing tonight. You’re too earnest.”

  “You mean I like telling the truth.”

  “That is so precious. How come you only got thrown under the bus this year? You should stay here and let me do the rest.”

  19

  Living in one place for so long made one feel all its walls and corners, sure, and whenever someone complained to her that they were finding their city too “small,” Naya was always quick with a recommendation for where to go to breathe. Usually it meant a bus or plane ride, or a long drive. Sometimes, for emergencies, other places would do. It wasn’t about how far away, but which world to enter.

  The Carter Pacific, and many hotels in Manila like it, catered to business travelers and families with money to burn. Not her usual world, though some days she had to step into it, for work. If Ben couldn’t help but be exactly who he was in every single world of his home city, Naya had no problem tweaking her settings to feel more at home in this one.

  She spotted the senator as soon as he came into the lounge. They seated him and the other guy by the huge bay windows. They were served glasses of water; the other guy had a beer. The way the shiny wall curved around them, Naya could barely see the other guy, but at least from her new spot at the bar, she could tell that David was still at the table. Then the other guy stood up, his phone to his ear, and the senator was alone.

  Good job, Ben’s friend. Naya needed to be quick about this, but also not scary. Her approach to the senator’s table was measured, and her smile bright. “Good evening, Senator Alano. Hope you don’t mind my saying hello. My name is Naya, and I’m a friend of Ben Cacho.”

  Close like this, and with sexy lounge lighting, Naya had to admire the man she had been appropriately calling Silver Fox all day. He stood up, and offered a hand for her to shake. “Ben, yes, it’s been a while. How is he?”

  “Good, good,” Naya said. “He has a message for you.”

  She handed him a piece of paper, folded once. The senator read it and she could tell he knew what it meant—he gave a small nod and slipped it into his pants pocket.

  “That’s all,” Naya said. “Thank you, and I should go.”

  “Wait. Naya. How is he, really?”

  “He’s okay.”

  “How long have you known him?”

  Got me there. “Not long. But he’s okay.”

  “I tried to get in touch with him during—” His voice trailed off, and then he pushed both hands into his pockets. “But this is good, it should be good. If they’re working together, then he’s good. She’ll take care of him.”

  “I hope so. I hope...” Oh God. It wasn’t her place at all, and it wasn’t even her character. She had approached him as Naya if she were in this world, just another business traveler, a subdued version of herself. But but but: “I hope you find the backbone to take care of him too.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I said he’s good at his job and he has fucking integrity, and that’s the kind of person you keep on your side, instead of rewarding the ones who make deals with all the little and big devils. Because that says something about you, sir, when you make it hard for people like him to stay. And people like him are the only ones who keep things going, who make sure people don’t get screwed more, who make sure the house doesn’t completely burn just yet. It’s hard to keep people around who want to do that. And when the last of them give up, what becomes of us?”

  Oh God. She said that. She said that?

  To his credit, he took this better than her ex-boss did. David Alano’s eyes were kind; his face didn’t contort into a defensive mask. “Is that what you think is happening?”

  “It’s—it’s not inconsistent.”

  “Do you think it’s that simple? Everyone has good intentions.”

  “No, not everyone.” Naya felt the seething, the blood rushing to her face. What a horrible thing, to be reunited with your own monster self. “Sir, I’m not a child. And fuck that—we teach kids to be kind, and giving, and decent. We should expect adults to have learned how to do that at some point along the way. I’ve been in similar spaces. I know what it feels like. Stop killing compassion in people. Hell, stop killing passion in people. You can see what it’s doing to everything. Unless you don’t, because it’s completely gone in you now.”

  Dear Lord. Rage-quit Naya. Where was the wise one, the cynic? Where was Naya from ten freaking minutes ago?!

  “That’s all,” she said, struggling to find her composure. “Thank you for your time.”

  “Naya,” David said. “I think we’ve worked together before.”

  “I don’t think so—“

  Recognition dawned on his face. “The PH Lens project. We didn’t meet in person but I was on its steering committee, and I watched everything. You were very good in that.”

  Shit—not only did she transform into exact incarnation of who she was years ago, he recognized her too. “Thank you.”

  “Thank you as well.”

  And then she ran out of there.

  What did she just do?

  On the day she quit her job, Naya felt no regret. She liked to call it a “rage-quit” and surely it seemed like it to anyone who was there. On most days she was bubbly, quiet, chill. She had enthusiasm even when she wasn’t filming herself, and during disagreements, she sometimes argued but never lost her cool.

  Inside was a different story. Inside, Naya argued with herself dozens of times, before speaking up. Debated constantly with herself if this was a battle she really wanted to fight, then learned to start shutting up, without actually wanting to. Months upon months of that led to what she did.

  Not unlike the lecture she just gave to a senator.

  Yikes, she just did that.

  When she got back to Ben, still panting from running, he asked her how it went. And the truth was, it was peachy. All good. She gave him the note, he read it, and they weren’t discovered. What happened next was all up to the good senator; Ben and Naya did their part.

  Still, she felt like getting out of there as soon as possible. “It’s done, let’s go.” She all but pulled him off the seat, leaving him to scramble to leave cash on the table, enough to cover their bill.

  “What do you mean, it’s done?” He was letting her drag him out, sure, but he kept asking. “He got the note?”

  “Yes.”

  “He read it? He understood it?”

  “Yes. I think so? Yes. Let’s get out of here.”

  “What happened? Did Elmo see you?”

  “He didn’t.”

  The glass doors slid open and they stepped out onto the driveway, then the street. It had been hot all day; now in the middle of the evening, the sky was starless and it smelled like rain soon. Take shelter. Briefly she used it as her excuse to walk fast, to keep going, as if they were seconds away from downpour. She was at least two steps ahead of him going up the block, in the direction of where he parked the car. If she had her way she’d fly—she truly felt like she had exposed herself to something in there, and she couldn’t get away fast enough.

  “Naya. Hey.”

  “In the car.”

  “Hey.”

  “Let’s talk in the car.”

  “Did he say anything to you?”

  What part of let’s talk in the car…? Naya tried to give him her best Everything’s Fine face. “He didn’t say anything. I mean, he said things, but not bad things.”

  He was giving her his best Concerned Face. Then a Concerned Hand had gently settled on her wrist. When she welcomed his touch and leaned toward him, the Concerned Arm brought her closer. “Was it wrong to ask you to help today? I don’t know what happened there. If you were threatened or hurt—”

  “I’m not hurt. He didn’t threaten me. I…”

&
nbsp; I need a hug. They were halfway there anyway, with the arms, so she hugged him. What she felt right away was a disorienting comfort. Naya gave hugs, she realized, gave comfort through the hug. She hadn’t really felt this in a long time. When her hand curved around his nape, when she pressed her lips against his, she got something out of it. She felt better, in bursts. She hoped the feeling was mutual, that she wasn’t inadvertently taking something from him, but Ben kissed her back like he had all warmed up and was ready to go.

  “Your place,” she decided. He was okay with that. It wasn’t the closest location but she didn’t have any hotel strings to pull that night and not her place, not where she was living with her cousin, because too many questions.

  So they went back to where they started that morning, the Six 32 Central neighborhood, and to one of the buildings on the fringes of the business district, coincidentally one that she was familiar with because she briefly considered living there. She would have, too, if she had a better job or didn’t quit the one she had. Who’d have thought years later she’d get to test it out? Life was like that sometimes.

  So far, so good, by the way. Seemed secure enough. An elevator that required a card to exit on specific floors. Well-lit hallway, clean and shiny floors. If she lived there maybe she would have had reason to shut up, to stay, because rent was a huge part of her monthly expenses and sometimes the decision was to pay more for a better escape. Naya was thinking about this in the seconds it took to walk down the hall, but everything left her head as soon as they made it into his apartment.

  Ben’s place. Was it new? How long had he been living here? Many things about the space seemed new, primarily that it wasn’t a mess. Not at all, and when he dropped his blazer over the dark wood dining table it seemed like clutter, like it didn’t belong there.

  For too many days than she cared to admit, she thought about this. About him, about the next time. It wasn’t healthy to expect it. She’d let herself indulge this time, please.

  He kissed her cheek first. Open-mouthed, gentle, like he was taking a tentative bite. It was…unexpected? And sweet. Naya responded with the same, an open-mouthed kiss on his collarbone, sweeping toward his throat.

  Too many clothes.

  “Bedroom?” Ben’s voice was a sexy whisper, or maybe it was because they were still too close to the front door. She nodded and didn’t wait to be led; was two steps ahead of him toward it too.

  His bed wasn’t made. That was fine, no one was perfect after all. She didn’t mind so much that she was seeing what his bedroom really looked like, on a normal day. Like he had just gotten up, gone to work, no time to fold the sheets and plump the pillows.

  Travel flings for Naya weren’t just one-night stands. There were second nights, and mornings, and sometimes more. She couldn’t recall a second night happening months later, with all the daydreams and fantasies starring this guy in between. Truth—when he pulled his shirt off and she touched the bare skin of his chest with her open palm, she felt ready to combust.

  Not come, though. Not just yet. She hadn’t planned a second time with Ben but now that it was here, she was going to make it count. The dynamic was different the first time; not as playful as she would have wanted. She had a feeling this time he’d allow a bit more...curiosity.

  So far, he’d let her do what she wanted. She had stripped him down to his boxers. He waited, his breath quick, as she shed her top and pants, only leaving on her pale pink bra and black panties. He let her position him, on his back on the bed, only groaning in near pain when she straddled him between her legs, sitting right on his thighs.

  This would be a new view for him. They hadn’t gotten to do this with him under her. She was liking how this felt already, liking the warmth from where their legs touched. She liked his body, wondered what he did to keep in shape. They had a gym in the building, she knew. Did he use it? How often? Not too often maybe. She pressed a fingertip against his abs and hoped he saw her appreciation. No six-pack just yet but she liked how it felt, remember how it looked when he was all tensed up, thrusting into her. It was a good body, congratulations, she especially liked how it moved.

  He was wearing his glasses, still. Ben tried to discard them but she stopped him. She liked them on him, not going to apologize.

  “If you remove your glasses…?”

  “I can see,” he replied. “I just won’t be...able to read. Certain text sizes. From certain distances.”

  “Hmm.” She liked the idea that he’d be able to see everything, clearly. “Keep them on.”

  “Okay.”

  Naya touched his abs again, using the same fingers, then trailed down lower, over the waistband of his boxers, up the bulge that strained against the fabric. She felt it move, under her touch. Hello. “May I see it?”

  “Yes.” He had grabbed the blanket; she liked the clenched fists and the flexed forearms. She liked the restraint, that she didn’t have to ask for. Sometimes it happened like this—she’d take control and a lover would let her. Always fun. “What do you need me to do?”

  “Just watch.” Naya’s hand slipped into the flap in his boxers, fingers wrapping around him. So...she liked this too? Another thing not to apologize for. She hadn’t been able to touch as much, that first time. But now he was in her hand, feeling hard and smooth and… “Do you get tested? Like, regularly?”

  “Y-yes. I did. I’m okay. And—and no one else since you.”

  That was unexpected information. She didn’t know how to feel about that, so she just went ahead with what she was going to ask anyway. “May I use my mouth?”

  “Fuck.”

  He was cute when he was like this. Naya closed her fingers around him and stroked down, to the root of him, then up, slow. “That’s not an answer.”

  “Fuck. Yes.”

  He was cute when he remembered words. Naya slid her body down his legs, got comfortable, then wrapped her lips around the tip of his cock. There, first, with her tongue, then more of him. Once, she glanced up at him and he was looking right at her, lusty and helpless, and another time he had closed his eyes, thrown his glasses away somewhere.

  He’s hot, was what she was thinking, almost counterintuitive given their position, but the heat Naya felt, the near-combustion, it was still there. It hadn’t taken her over; she was using it. She used it with her hands, her tongue, how she closed her lips around him. The sounds he made got her hotter, had her touching herself, had her completely ready and wet and not caring whether it was too soon to come.

  The next words he formed were a warning that he was about to do just that, and she decided not in her mouth, not today. So hot, she thought, as she watched him come, sort of gasp and groan in helpless abandon, and she brought herself there too.

  “You okay?” She giggled. He gave a slight, exhausted nod in response. So cute, the way he looked a little destroyed.

  20

  Naya didn’t leave right after, so Ben allowed himself to relax. He used the bathroom to clean up after she did, and when he was done, he found her on his bed, legs draped over a pillow. Pink bra, black panties—interesting color combination. He felt like his bedroom suddenly transformed into a magazine centerfold, or a photo shoot location, some glamorous place in another dimension.

  “It’s still early.” It was exactly what he was thinking, that he maybe shouldn’t have said aloud.

  “I know.”

  There was a hint of a giggle there, which was a small comfort, made stronger by how her arms went around him when he joined her on the bed. Her lips grazed his brow, and he needed to kiss her, hadn’t kissed her enough.

  “Ben,” she said. “Your bed is really nice.”

  “Glad you noticed.” He picked it himself. The condo wasn’t furnished when he got it, and beds mattered to him. Because of sleeping really, although now he congratulated himself on making good decisions.

  “I sleep on a futon in a living room. I’m sure it’s bad for my spine. Melly has the bedroom and the actual bed.”

&
nbsp; “Lie down flat then. And stretch.”

  That got him a brief side-eye from her, like she was checking if he was joking, and then she shrugged it off and did it anyway. Turned to face the ceiling, raised her arms over her head, and stretched. A small sigh escaped her mouth as her body made a straight line, pointed toes to stretched fingers.

  “You’re on your feet all day,” he said. “Must be tough on your body.”

  “More now than it used to be. And my voice too.”

  “You should take care of yourself.”

  “I know. Do you want to do something about it?”

  Something inside him stirred. Arousal, that was what it was. He had work the next day but—“Whatever you want.”

  “Are you sure? Maybe you aren’t ready.”

  “Try me.” What are you saying? You just blew a load and you aren’t twenty-four anymore. And yet the need for her grew, so maybe his confidence wasn’t going to fail him.

  “I was wondering if you could do slow.”

  “Slow?”

  “Lazy Sunday afternoon kind of sex.”

  “Maybe you should explain what Sunday afternoons are like for you.”

  “When you don’t want to move from your bed,” she said, her eyelids heavy. “When you tell yourself it’s okay, because it’s hot outside, and you’re feeling a gentle breeze from somewhere, and you have work tomorrow so you just want the afternoon to last forever.”

  Oh, that was what Sunday was for a lot of people? He hadn’t had that in years. “I thought you worked in tourism.”

  “I freelance. I reclaimed my Sundays.”

  “Not Thursday rush hour sex then.”

  Her laugh rolled over his skin, he could swear it did. “Slow but unsatisfying, makes you angry?”

  “No one should put you through that. Never, ever.”

  “You say really nice things to me.”

  “I don’t lie.”

  He didn’t know if she was going to say something, or sigh—his mouth captured hers, and stayed there. She wanted slow and he could do that. He let the kiss last as long as his held breath. Spent a leisurely stretch of time just exploring her mouth with his tongue. They’d never really done slow, but this was perfect, he could do this. He felt like he was slowly melting, being consumed by her, when in fact it was his body atop hers, his mouth doing the tasting. And he felt himself getting ready for her again, but if she wanted slow then that was what she would get. More of everything for him. More time. More to touch.