Seduction of the Innocent

When I was in high school, a woman came to our house every week to do some gardening. With her came her assistant, a tall, swarthy fellow in his early twenties who often squatted shirtless among my mother's roses while pruning away dead twigs.

I don't remember his name anymore, but I know he had longish hair that covered his ears and a lazy grin.

Whenever he was around, I'd usually station myself in the kubo's terrace, my nose pressed against a book, and steal glances at the sweaty, brown V of his back. Some days, I even got a glimpse of his white briefs.

As it turned out, my stolen glances didn't go unnoticed. One afternoon, secretly watching him from the terrace as usual, I saw him get up, turn towards me, and wink. Then, biting his lower lip, he slipped his right hand inside his pants, adjusted something inside, and made his eyebrows bob up and down once in a kind of nod. Immediately I panicked and hid, pretending I didn't see anything.

From then on, I avoided him as much as I could. Funny. I'd wasted so many hours just waiting for his briefs to show from underneath his pants, but when he finally made what I thought (and still think) was a sexual invitation, not only did I run away, my desire was replaced by fear and loathing.

For the truth is, I started to hate him. Every time I bumped into him in our compound (I could only avoid him so much), I'd smirk and walk away, looking digusted. He, however, must have seen through me, for he just laughed a teasing laugh every time I snubbed him, and one time, when no one was looking, even grabbed my hand and put it on his crotch. Of course, I bolted.

I guess I wasn't ready then to confront my desire's implications. I guess I was too scared by the thought that somebody knew I was one.

Years later, after I'd finally come out to my parents, after he had long stopped coming to our house, I sometimes wondered about him, and in my naughtier moments even imagined myself paying him a visit. Of course, by then, he was probably already in his thirties, with a wife and kids in some hovel, and a beer tummy. But in my fantasies, he remained the slim-waisted gardener who'd winked at me from the rosebushes and made me touch his thing. It was I who'd changed, having become braver, bolder, ready to bob my eyebrows in agreement.

But like many things in life, those naughty moments passed pretty quickly. And, anyway, it would have been too embarrassing to fish for his address.

(Wag nang mahiya. Share din kayo ng seduction experiences nyo in the comments section. :))