Leashed

Chapter 2

I am having quite the difficulty, not in the continuous fabrication of this story, but in my intent to overpower my innate sloth. To some degree, likewise, I find that I reflect the natural selfishness of the heroine of this piece, for I often would collect myself from the thought of suppressing the fullness of what I’ve started and keep it furtive. In doing so, however, the demons sharing residence with my soul inside me would not leave me to the care of peace and serenity. Apparently, this, in turn, has prompted me to abandon the idea of putting this only within the confinement of my ever so exuberant imagination, because I’m given the certainty that this will haunt me, lest I bring this to light.

The world, along with me, is a witness to breathtaking spectacles. The people who live close to the famed Belmonte mansion were even more so, since they fell in the category of awestruck neighbors before a magnificent work of art that didn't only convene the attention of their entire locality, but even the whole country.

This French chateau-inspired house sits five acres northeast of the city of Makati. Decorated with taste and prestige and designed with precious materials like ebony, limestone and marble, it came to completion in the year 2002.

Upon entry by a high steel gate, one can locate himself in a long stone paved road between a landscape so brilliantly outlined with a Filipino identity with Philippine trees like Agoho and Banaba and Philippine flowers like the Pukingan, Plumara and Stargazer Lily planted to foreground a majestic frontyard, all wherefore, circling around a Mediterranean patio fountain before the center of elegance—the Belmonte house.

The exterior of the house is graced with several huge arching windows, and the pillars, all made of limestone, are common supporters of the structure, from the entrance to the interior of the house. The walls are made of blocks of the same material enclosing a massive steel frame, set on rollers on the foundation, to safeguard the constitution in an earthquake. This also includes twelve bedrooms, fifteen bathrooms, a pool house in the backyard, a two-story library, a commercial kitchen, a staff dining room, staff offices, and a wine cellar and tasting room.

Sol, the 27-year-old masochist, brings to his view the most delightful image to have ever appeared in his pleasure-seeking life. A smile slowly registers on his face as he takes in the unrivaled quintessence of comeliness—although with her lips zipped in a straight line—leaning on the frame of a Lexus LS 2007 in the garage.

“You sure took your time conversing with my twisted father,” Neoma said, her voice pointing out his tardiness.

“I’m sorry it took long,” Sol complied as soon as he came a close distance to her.

He could smell her perfume—an intoxicating blend of roses and an undeniable charm pulling him even more to her magic which he had long since drowned. God knows how much he has overused her as the subject of his fantasies (which I know you have a hint of what kind these are now). He badly wants to possess her and to be possessed by her. Hell, he’d even give up everything in exchange for a day of ceaseless passion with his mistress.

He chooses, however, to have his advances towards her at a minimum, because he wouldn’t want to spoil his chances; besides, the chase is maintaining his excitement.

“Whatever, let’s go,” Neoma terminated the matter, oblivious of her driver-bodyguard inwardly drooling at her.

Behind the wheel, Sol discreetly steals glances at Neoma who’s seated at the back in the rear-view mirror as they egress from the vicinity of their vast property. In these instances, he could only see the same flavor of impassivity as she basked in the troubles the world had delivered her.

Her thoughts were always preoccupied by how the course of her life never seemed to go in her favor. Her mother chose to leave her and her father for another man when she was eight years old, and she lived where only happiness mattered. She saw her live a life without being bound by the reins of the “Belmonte” label. She saw her savor freedom with her new family. For that, she envied her own mother, not because she was happy, but because she was free from the grip of the man named Wile Belmonte.

She, nonetheless, had loathed her ever since. She forsook her and only thought of her own liberation; whereas, she was left to cultivate the devil within her.

In the midst of her thoughts, she caught Sol’s eyes on her in the rear-view mirror. He winked at her, which she, in turn, disregarded, for his flirtations were as typical as the rising of the sun every morning.

She may be an expert at lovemaking, but her emotional intelligence stayed mediocre. She can never successfully sort out the feelings of another, since she herself does not know the art of relaying feelings. Her density, which stemmed from her egocentricity, is so high that she fails to sense Sol’s obsession with her.

She misunderstood his actions as a manifestation of his sleazy disposition, because she had seen him behave the same way towards other women and she had even, once, caught him having threesome with some random females inside his room in the mansion.

Then a pang of displeasure crept through her as her mind replayed a memory of him which she tried her best to forget but could never do. She hated to acknowledge it, but he was her first kiss.

Neoma was not only in junior high back that day; she was also taking a shower in her bathroom when Sol suddenly came storming uninvited, almost shattering the sliding glass door to the partition.

His intrusion sent her into an abrupt panic as she reached for her maroon robe to conceal her nakedness. At the age of sixteen, she had already gained a promising figure; she wouldn’t let him have the benefit of oogling at her.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?! Get out!” She yelled at him.

“So, you have a boyfriend now?” Sol none so nicely wanted a clarification.

She identified that he pertained to Jeff, her classmate and first ever boyfriend.

She scoffed and thought about how absurd his concern was before she stated, “So, what’s it to you?”

The consequence of her condescending statement wasn’t within her expectations. She didn’t really reckon him to close the glass door to the shower cubicle, charge at her, pull her towards him and smash his lips against hers. He ravaged her lips like a hungry baby suckling milk from his mother’s n****e.

The shower faucet was still on, soaking him to join her in her wetness.

Neoma struggled to get herself free from the assault, but she was no match for his masculine puissance. She refused to give up, and somehow, in the back of her mind, she wondered where he had learned how to kiss. He even bit her lower lip, which gave him more access to her mouth.

She then had her chance when his hand suddenly found its way to her breast. She shoved him away with all her might and peeled herself from his embrace.

“What is wrong with you?!” She managed to ask in quickened breathing.

He only responded with a smirk at her which made her more infuriated than she already was.

“I will tell father about this,” she threatened him as she made her way to the glass door.

Sol, however, blocked her path, and his smirk even widened at her.

“As always, you employ the help of your father, daddy’s girl,” he teased her.

Neoma felt her blood boil as she said with emphasis on every word, “I am not a daddy’s girl.”

He sarcastically retorted, “Sure, you’re not.”

She couldn’t find any more words for defense, for he was right. It seemed that she could never do anything without her father’s assistance. She felt ashamed of herself.

“You know, if you want to punish me, why not do it yourself like you always did before?” He gleefully recommended.

“I’d love it very much if you tortured me. I’m your dog, remember? You know what they say, a dog who turns against its master should be punished.”

The deliberate huskiness of his voice sent her left brow to bolt up. She wasn’t having any of it anymore.

It could have been then one of the rarest sights to see when he saw Neoma give him a smile. It wasn’t, however, the only thing he saw since her fist came flying at his face too.

The memory isn’t all that despicable to her. Even with her eventual breakup with Jeff, she recalls how a swollen eye surfaced in Sol back then. It somehow amused her.