Blaming It On The Alcohol (2 of 2)

I left the company of my alcohol-drowned friends and went inside the bedroom. My threshold for the alcohol has been reached. I found a vacant space beside Mr. Chinito Chub who has left the group earlier to rest. I laid beside him.

Mr. Chinito Chub and I have been in constant communication for days prior to this gathering through this fad social networking site on smartphones. We got along well and even jived early on in the gathering.

Drenched by the power of the alcohol, (I was blaming it on the alcohol yet again), I crawled inside his blanket. I managed to get inside without waking him up. He was facing away from me.

Inch by inch, my hand was making its way through his waist, slithering slowly down to his tummy. I was keenly observing his every move, because the subtle changes in the pattern of his breathing might mean that he was awake. But there were none. I pressed my hand lightly on to his tummy just so that he might feel it.

He moved. I immediately retreated my hand. To my surprise, he grabbed it, faced me and placed my arm around him. He then held me too. He held me from behind my ear, combed my hair with his fingers, pulled my head closer to him, so near that I could feel his breathing.

The next thing I knew I was engaged in kissing again. Our lips were locked on to each other, more passionate as the one I had earlier with Mr. Medical Technologist. His lips had the aftertaste of the brandy but it was utterly sweet. His breath was deep and warm. Our arms were coiled around, gently soothing each other with affectionate touches.

It continued for several minutes. Then we fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms under the blanket. We woke up moments later and continued on with the passionate kiss. It was like a sleep-kiss-sleep-kiss pattern.

The alcohol may have loosen up our thoughts but it did not manage to loosen our underpants. Our hands never reached that part below the waist. We were still in partial control of ourselves after all.

Until the effects of the alcohol has worn off, we dozed ourselves to a longer sleep. We woke up in the morning and still found ourselves in the arms of each other. We just smiled.

We were our usual selves that morning. The whole group had brunch together and had a few more chit chats. We made fun of the events that took place that night, like who puked in the middle of the drinking bout, who turned from being so quiet to being so noisy talking about life's adversaries. We pinpointed who flirted with the most number of guys in the group, and even who kissed who, including my PDA kissing scene with Mr. Medical Technologist, and who slept with who that night. They even put Mr. Chinito Chub and I under the hot seat asking us what happened that night under the blanket. Of course, we denied all their speculations. Nothing really happened aside from the petty kisses we had.

It was almost late in the afternoon when we got ourselves fixed, left the apartment and parted ways.

Funny how alcohol has made our night. For once, I was able to forget all my worries and just enjoy the night with them. It was fun. Yeah right, I could see the grin from your faces! Lols!

"Drinking is an emotional thing. It joggles you out of the standardism of everyday life, out of everything being the same. It yanks you out of your body and your mind, and throws you against the wall. I have the feeling that drinking is a form of suicide where you're allowed to return to life and begin all over the next day. It's like killing yourself, and then you're reborn."

- Charles Bukowski.

Disclaimer: Nothing special happened to Mr. Chinito Chub and I after the incident. No awkward feelings, no hatred whatsoever. We were still good friends as we have always been. It was merely due to the influence of alcohol.

Aja!