DISCLAIMER: I in no way own any of the recognizable characters, or quotes throughout and for the duration of these stories. No profit is being made and no infringement is intended. I claim rights to original characters and original plot points.
Mature Content Warning:
This post may contain content of an adult nature. If you are easily offended or are under the age of 18, please exit now. This page is intended for adults only and may include scenes of sexual content, suggestive pictures, or graphic violence. Reader discretion is advised.
Date: 07/15/2018
Time: 6am
Location: Annandale house party
I, Rob Bao, once saw an exquisite siamese cat named Delilah with blue eyes in the backyard of a house in the suburb of Annandale in Sydney, Australia. It was the morning after a crazy house party. Still dazed and confused, I was lying awake in a sofa inside the house when I saw her outside the window. She strolled on top of the roof of the adjacent house, with all the leisure and confidence in the world, fit for a neighborhood feline enjoying her best life. There was something special about Delilah I couldn’t put my finger on, an aura of regality and beauty, prompting me to follow her as she landed in the backyard and started grazing the leftover food from last night. Oh, I noticed the host of the party, Bourne, was up and making coffee.
“Morning, Bourne! How you going?” I greeted him.
“Sleepy. What a night, huh?” He answered, rubbing his eyes.
“It was legendary. So much fun. Do you remember what you said when we were on the Uber home?” I teased.
“No really. It was the cocaine talking.” He smiled.
“You told me repeatedly don’t be a robot and don’t listen to you.” I reminded him with a bigger grin.
“Forget about it, mate. It’s all nonsense.” Though he did not seem embarrassed.
“Hey, is it just me or is there a cat in the backyard?” I looked out the kitchen window and saw Delilah foraging for meat scraps.
“I don’t see a cat. Maybe it’s in the grass?” He wasn’t a cat person. No wonder he wasn’t interested.
I walked out the backdoor to the backyard. The cat was still there on the ground for sure. I squatted down, extended my arm, and let it sniff my closed fist. It was friendly and did not shy away. Naturally I began petting it.
“What’s your name, sweetie?” There was a collar around its neck. I took a look. Delilah. It reminded me of a song, so I changed the lyric a bit:
Hey there, Delilah
What’s it like in West Sydney?
I’m just an inch away
But, girl, right now you look so pretty
Yes, you do
Opera House can’t shine as bright as you
I swear, it’s trueHey there, Delilah
Don’t you worry about the distance
I’m right here if you get lonely
Give this song another listen
Close your eyes
Listen to my voice, it’s my disguise
I’ll hold you in my arms
“What are you doing, Rob?” Bourne came out with two cups of coffee, sounding concerned.
I turned my head and said, “here is the cat I saw. Her name is Delilah and her eyes are blue. See?”
“What cat?” Bourne was really perplexed.
I moved my body and gestured, “this cat!” I thought I blocked his view.
But wait!
There was no cat…
A chill ran up my spine…
Was I hallucinating? Was it the mushroom?
Did I take too much drugs?
Joseph Zemankis, AKA JZ, was our managing director Luke Welsh’s most trusted lieutenant. One evening around 6:26pm, he came back to the office to get his stuff. Noticing I was still there writing a Spark big data workflow to process mobile browsing logs from our partner telecom, he said to me:
“Why are you still working, Rob?”
“Well, I want to finish this part of the code and make sure it runs in our development sandbox.” I answered without looking at him.
“You work too hard, mate. Nobody in Australia does this unless it’s really necessary. Go home and rest! Tomorrow is another day.” He suggested.
“Thanks. But I won’t sleep well tonight if it’s not done.” I said.
“How about training? I heard you work out at Plus Fitness everyday.” He smiled.
“Oh, you are right! They are closing soon.” There was a Plus Fitness in the lower levels of our building. I hesitated.
“Alright. Don’t stay too late, legend! I’ll see you. Cheers!” He left.
Since I was the only data engineering expert in Sydney office, my stubborn mindset plus genuine affection for the job often propelled me to commit more time than I should, sacrificing health and family along the way. I kept telling myself it was all worthy because my visible performance and well-rounded communications spoke for themselves. I did receive an offer to stay in Australia longer than originally planned. The management was willing to sponsor two business trips a year back to the US in lieu of my green card status constraints, plus satisfactory pay raise and other regular benefits according to the Australian labor laws. However, there was but one problem: my cat Mindy.
On a fateful night in March 2011, near the streets by the campus of the University of California at Los Angeles (UCLA), I met Mindy while parking my used Honda Civic. It was the first car I ever purchased in the US, from a Taiwanese female who was moving back home. The whole process of browsing posts on PTT LA board for available items and arranging test drives took more than two months. Finally I got hold of Sally, who was moving back to Taiwan and trying to sell her two-year-old vehicle. I had previously tested drive a 2nd hand Accord, whose mileage was over 10k. My dad discouraged me from buying it due to the potential cost of future maintenance and repairs.
Oh, did I mention Mindy was my cat?
At first, she approached me after I had done parking. Walking back to my apartment in Westwood, I noticed on the sidewalk there was a white cat strolling leisurely towards me, with its tails high.
“Hey! Kitty, kitty~” I said.
“Meow~!” It replied.
“Come here, kitty!” I gestured and squat down, Asian style.
The cat now known as Mindy, back then still a nameless scruffy short hair tabby, with its light skippy steps came to me and started touching my shin. Quite intentionally and perhaps a little forcefully, if I may say that. Prior to that time point I had never had a pet cat or dog before, so I was a little late to the cue: it was demanding food.
You see, when you keep a dog, to the dog, you are God. But it is another matter entirely when it comes to a cat. A human opened a can of food for a dog.
The dog thought, “oh my, this being is so nice to me. And it is so powerful. IT, therefore, must be God!”
Now let’s replace the dog with a cat. A proud house cat who is aloof at best, obnoxious at worst. A human opened a can of food for this cat.
The cat thought, “Hmmmm... tuna brown rice again? Where’s my salmon with pumpkin?”
And knocked the bowl over, staring at his owner with disgust.
The human took offense of this behavior. It was an act of disobedience. However, the owner knew better than to fight it, it being the real omnipotent lord of the household, Kitty Supreme. Reluctantly the human served another can. This time the correct salmon and pumpkin recipe.
Kitty Supreme smiled, “Haha! Such smart and resourceful shit-picker. I must be God!”
Although I wasn’t privy to Mindy’s inner thoughts, I suspect the above joke applied to her. I missed her dearly in Sydney that one time Jen paid for a Harry Potter movie plus live orchestra performance in the Opera House , but my mind was totally absent due to the melancholy longing of Mindy’s blue eyes. Back in LA a few years ago, I often stared into them, drifted into the sky, the ocean, and ultimately to the vast universe where stars shined and the distant galaxies roamed.
Back to Sydney, back to Argyle at the Rocks in Circular Quay. Bourne, Dar, Lewis and I were on our third consecutive nights out after work. Oh yes, we got off at around 5–6pm, started with bars and beers, then moved onto the clubs. The club scene in Sydney was the best in the world, at least to me, with the friendliest crowds and the most beautiful women.
We danced like there was no tomorrow. And in a way, there wasn’t. I was so determined to achieve my goal of dancing with an attractive woman that I went above and beyond… beyond my physical and mental limit every night in these wild jungles where males fight for females’ attention, and less vice versa. Our wolf pack leader Bourne was so resourceful that he bought MDMA on the dark web with the profit from his crypto investments. We dropped every now and then, first conquering social anxiety, then excelling at solo shuffle dance, finally wielding immense power over any given night’s crowd at will!
Every day I live like there’s no tomorrow
Every evening I dance the night away
After a dreamless slumber
At dawn I am born again!
CK was a Spanish girl with who we, Louie, Dar, and I shared a common friend. His name was Ethen Leon Pagolo, a younger man from the Philippines who moved from Manila to Sydney as a college kid and graduated to be a customer representative in Telstra, whiling working as a cafe barista part-time to support himself and his then girlfriend, Sheila. I will forever remember the first night Sheila and we met at Argyle. From afar she struck me like a bolt of red lightning with her curvy hair, peppy steps, and the wide, ear-to-ear grin. Oh, her pupils were green! With typical Westerners’s round big eyes, double eyelids and brows shaped like two rainbows across the sky. She was an energetic 5-feet tall (short?) girl, with mobile hips, slender waist, and a tan from Granada, Spain. Growing up, Sheila’s family was Catholic, and yet she preferred spinning in circles at the Alhambra Mosque to attending Sunday Classes. Sister Sorrena used to beat her when she was little for disobedience and challenging authority. Like a tango or salsa dancer, she enjoyed the attention whenever she moved and people’s jealous gaze. She felt like a crimson swan gracefully displaying its wings with pride.
I had never found out why, but on our third night out, Sheila was uncharacteristically passionate with me. Perhaps she and Ethen had a fight. Or the nursing school was too stressful to cope.
Oh, well, whatever. I thought. As long as Ethen didn’t complain. Who am I to refuse a friendly invitation to dance?
She was wearing a white dress and leather jacket, with miniskirt and camo boots as if ready for tactical actions. The first night we met I mistakenly asked Sheila if she had dropped MDMA before. I thought a nurse-in-training must be familiar with drugs, cigarettes, and alcohol. Turned out she felt surprised, even offended it seemed, because her strict Catholic upbringing forbid such sins. She despised weak-minded peers and treat addicts as dirty bugs deserving to be crushed, not rehabilitated by welfare society.
Today’s bra looked blue! I fought so hard to avoid staring at her when we all gathered for the second time, a quick Bavarian dinner with pitchers of beers, hot wings, and fries. Oops, chips I should say.
In my rough and conservative estimate, her bra size was an Australian 32B, Asian 32C, and American 31B. The low-cut, teal V-neck shirt couldn’t hide the underlying navy lace bra. It was disrespectful and impolite to look at a girl’s breast, that would be the real reason why I always circled away from her and placed her directly across the center when the group formed a square or a pentagon. My eye-line to her was straight, and I always smiled at her.
“Hmmmn…. Rob, why you always avoid me”? She asked.
I laughed, “do you really want to know the reason”?
“Si.” She nodded earnestly.
I looked around and made sure Ethen wasn’t here on the dance floor.
Can I do it? I am dying to… it’s the third night, so many chances I’ve let go… I took a deep breath and said,
“Because I am attracted to you.” I smiled and look into her eyes.
“Really!? Haha…” she moved slightly away with the latin music. I reached out with my right hand, which she was already holding with her left. She raised our hands and spun one circle with slow motion. When she was furthest away I tucked and pulled her close to me.
“Ahhh!” Our bodies clashed as she wasn’t expected to be this close.
“It’s time. This is finally my chance!” My red hot Seretonin-filled frontal cortex suspended all executive functions, following its primal animalistic instincts, holding her close to chest. I felt a tingling sensation in under my belly, opened my eyes to see her back turned to me…
She was twerking!! Oh my goodness! I pursed my lips.
This was the first time a female twerked directly at me. Following the latin/hip-hop tempo, I resisted her glutes while forming a protective shield around her, the crowd started to notice us.
We moved back four steps together, then forward four steps, with our arms entangled. With the ending of the fifth songs, I asked, “Aren’t you tired She?” I couldn’t even say her whole name Sheila.
(Restroom trip down, & climbing stairs back up to the 2nd floor)
(Balcony & smokos)
Somehow… Reluctantly, my dick became erect.
(kiss)
(SS)
The next morning was when I saw Delilah.
(To be continued… click here for the next episode)
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