Category: Untold

A difficult breakup, a night out in Malate, and a stranger who turned an ordinary distraction into a much wilder decision.

It was supposed to be a simple night out.

She had been going through a difficult breakup with her boyfriend, and her friends had one straightforward plan: get her out of the house, take her to a bar in Malate, and give her something else to think about for a few hours. Honestly, not the worst idea anyone has ever had.

Then tequila got involved.

After a couple of shots, she was tipsy, loosened up, and suddenly paying a lot more attention to the room. That was when she noticed a skinhead guy who had apparently been watching her and her friends since they walked into the bar.

For a while, they did the usual thing: look, look away, look again, and pretend neither person was obviously looking. Eventually she got tired of the silent staring contest and walked over to ask him to dance.

That was the moment the sensible version of the evening quietly packed its bags and left.

Once they were on the dance floor, she moved closer and made it very clear that she was interested. He noticed. Of course he noticed. And with her wearing a very short skirt, the dancing quickly crossed from flirtatious into an intimate encounter right there in the middle of the crowd.

In public.

On a dance floor.

Because apparently subtlety was no longer part of the evening.

Instead of backing away, she kept moving with him, increasingly caught up in what was happening and paying less attention to the music than to the moment itself. The fact that they were surrounded by other people somehow did not convince either of them that maybe this was a terrible place for bad decisions.

By then, going back to her friends’ table was apparently no longer on the schedule. She left the bar with the stranger, and the two headed to the nearest motel to continue the night somewhere private.

She had gone out hoping to forget a breakup for a few hours.

Technically, mission accomplished.

It started with sharing a bed and somehow got much harder to explain.

It was supposed to be a college team-building activity.

That’s it.

Bond with the group. Save some money. Survive one night in the same room.

Apparently, even that was asking too much.

The organizers had everyone sleep together in one room because it was cheaper and, supposedly, a good way to bring everyone closer.

Well.

They definitely got the “closer” part right.

Her ex was one of the officers running the activity. When everyone started deciding where to sleep, he casually pulled her into one of the beds with him.

Nobody seemed to notice.

And instead of pointing out that sharing a bed with an ex during a college trip was probably already a questionable decision…

she agreed.

Because apparently common sense had also gone to sleep.

They waited.

And waited.

Eventually, the room went quiet.

Everyone seemed to be asleep.

That was when the kissing started.

Slowly, things became less innocent.

Under the blankets, where nobody could supposedly see anything, he started undoing her bra strap and moved on to started teasing her under the blankets.

She bit the end of a pillow to stop herself from making any sound.

Which, just to be clear, should probably have been the moment they realized:

Maybe this was a terrible idea.

Nope.

She was already completely worked up, and apparently that was enough encouragement for both of them to keep going.

So they ended up doing exactly what they both knew they shouldn’t, carefully and quietly, lying in a spooning position while an entire room full of their college friends slept around them.

Again.

Entire room.

Other people.

A few feet away.

Perfect place for privacy.

Then, just as he was seconds away from finishing—

someone suddenly shouted,

“Uy!”

They stopped instantly.

Nobody moved.

Nobody breathed normally.

For a few horrifying seconds, they probably thought they had just been caught.

But nothing happened.

The room went quiet again.

So they stayed there, trying very hard to pretend that absolutely nothing suspicious had just happened.

Then came the next morning.

One of their orgmates casually mentioned that he sometimes talked—and even walked—while he was asleep.

So that random “Uy!” from the night before?

He might not have seen anything at all.

He may have simply been asleep.

Which somehow made the whole thing both better…

and much, much worse.

Because apparently the only thing standing between them and getting caught that night was a sleepwalking college orgmate with impeccable dramatic timing.

A simple airport pickup. Then somebody got bored.

It was supposed to be a simple airport pickup.

That’s it.

Pick someone up. Load the luggage. Go home.

But no.

A woman and her husband agreed to help a friend fetch her cousin from the airport. Their friend brought a car, while the couple brought an old owner-type jeep for the bags.

Then the waiting started.

And kept going.

And going.

Because apparently airports are where patience goes to die.

So the woman started messing with her husband.

At first, just his ear.

Then somehow that turned into touching his chest.

Of course, he reacted.

And instead of acting like two normal adults in a public place, he decided it was his turn.

His hand went inside her pants and started touching her between her legs

Again.

At the airport.

In an open jeep.

Where literally anyone could have walked past.

You would think that would be enough to make them stop.

Nope.

Apparently the possibility of getting caught only made the whole thing more exciting

So now she was trying to keep her little noises down while pretending everything was completely normal.

Which became a bit difficult when the jeep itself started moving.

Great.

Very subtle.

At that point, all it would have taken was one person looking in their direction for more than five seconds.

Somehow, unbelievably, nobody noticed.

They finished whatever terrible decision they had started and got away with it.

And you’d think the lesson here would be:

“Okay. That was stupid. Never again.”

Wrong.

They took it as inspiration.

After that, they started experimenting in other public places too.

Because apparently getting away with one bad decision just makes some people want to try an even worse one.

It was supposed to be a romantic night with her husband.

That’s it.

Dinner. Champagne. A little effort. Maybe finally remember what being a married couple felt like instead of two exhausted adults running a household.

Because apparently after nearly a year without much happening between them, she had decided enough was enough.

So she planned the whole thing.

She found a recipe involving baked oysters that supposedly helped with certain marital problems, added strawberries and champagne to set the mood, and—most importantly—made absolutely sure their daughter was already in bed before her husband got home.

Honestly, the planning was impressive.

The execution?

Not so much.

After dinner, the two of them were feeling considerably more playful.

She suggested they head upstairs, just in case their daughter woke up.

Which was actually a sensible decision.

For approximately five minutes.

Her husband carried her up the staircase, took her into the bedroom, and threw her onto the bed.

Then he asked her for a private dance.

And she agreed.

Because apparently after putting this much effort into the evening, subtlety had officially left the building.

She was fully committed to the performance when she suddenly noticed something.

The door.

Was.

Open.

And before either of them could do anything about that minor disaster, in walked their daughter.

Sleepy-eyed.

Standing in the doorway.

Asking for a glass of water.

Of course she was.

Because children somehow possess a supernatural ability to appear at the single worst possible moment.

Her mother froze.

Her husband froze.

The entire romantic evening basically froze.

Their daughter had clearly seen enough to realize that something unusual was happening, and after that she apparently didn’t want to talk about it for the rest of the night.

Understandable.

Her mother, meanwhile, made herself a very simple promise:

Never attempt anything adventurous with her husband again without checking the bedroom door first.

Because apparently romance requires champagne, strawberries, planning—

and apparently also a functioning door lock

A late night at her boyfriend’s place turned into the kind of morning that makes an early exit feel very, very late.

It was supposed to be practical. She worked as a Business Development Officer for one of the top five office-systems companies in the metro, which meant meetings, overtime, and getting home late were basically part of the job.

So one night, after another late finish, she stayed at her boyfriend’s place.

Simple enough. Except apparently “sleeping over” was doing a lot of work in that sentence.

They were both feeling in the mood, so instead of actually going to sleep, they decided to watch something a little too distracting. Because nothing says “responsible adults with work tomorrow” quite like making that choice late at night.

While he was clearly enjoying himself, she started teasing him. From there, the night turned into a very long night together.

Morning arrived, along with the small problem they had somehow managed to ignore: his parents were there, and she really did not want to get caught. So the sensible plan was obvious—leave early, quietly, and without creating any additional problems.

Naturally, they created an additional problem.

Her boyfriend wanted one last round before she left before she left, and she agreed. Apparently surviving the night without getting caught had given both of them far too much confidence.

They were reaching the worst possible moment to be interrupted when the bedroom door suddenly opened.

And there was his mom.

No screaming. No dramatic speech. No long lecture. She simply looked at them and said, “Ang aga niyan ah!”

Which, somehow, was probably worse.

She had planned to leave early so nobody would catch them. Instead, she got caught at exactly the moment when “good morning” was no longer an appropriate greeting.

Because apparently the fastest way to ruin a discreet exit is to squeeze in one last terrible decision before breakfast.

She barely knew the cousin she’d been volunteered to entertain. One quiet afternoon in their cottage made an already awkward trip even stranger.

It was supposed to be a simple family favor. Her cousin was visiting from the States, and her mother somehow decided she should become his official tour guide.

There was only one problem: she barely knew him.

She didn’t particularly want the assignment, but apparently this was one of those family arrangements where volunteering was optional right up until your mother volunteered you.

Eventually, they ended up in Boracay and met some of his friends from the US. Every single one of them was a guy, which did absolutely nothing to improve her mood.

Most of the time, she found herself sitting alone in their cottage while he disappeared with his friends.

Excellent tour-guiding arrangement.

So she found a book and started reading. At least the book seemed interested in spending time with her.

Then her cousin walked into the cottage complaining about a headache and asked whether she had any medicine. She ignored him and continued reading.

Apparently, being ignored wasn’t enough to make the situation less awkward.

He came up behind her and kissed the back of her neck.

The book dropped.

What followed crossed a boundary that had no business being crossed, and the atmosphere in that cottage changed immediately.

So much for the headache.

They spent the rest of the day together in the cottage before having to return to Manila the following day.

She had arrived in Boracay irritated that she’d been forced to entertain a cousin she barely knew.

She left with a considerably more complicated story.

And somehow all of it started with a headache.