Life of an FL and How It All Began


Read so many stories in this forum yet, I can’t identify with any of the stories of broken hearts in this forum. The combination of love lost, of innocence lost, of stepping into something and never able to turn back or even if I have stopped now, I still wouldn’t be able to return to the state of one who is untainted and pure as snow.

Because I am officially an FL.

For the uninitiated, FL stands for freelancers. Prostitute. Whore. Explaining this bit for up until Monday last week, I didn’t have any idea at all what the acronym or many abbreviations in this forum stood for.

And this is my true story. Writing this out not because I am proud of it, nor to elicit sympathies. Just needed a place where I could pour into words what I feel and have seen and have experienced.

Certain details and names has been changed so that in writing out, I would not inadvertently hurt or harm those who has ever stepped into my life, be it even for a mere 45 minutes.

Every single FL’s out there, I am sure or at least I hoped, had there been a better choice, surely no one would step into this field.

Remember when I was younger in my teens or was it early twenties, where I watched Pretty Woman the movie. The film industry had painted the whole picture of escorting and prostituting oneself in such a stylized translucent manner. It was akin to looking through a rose tinted glass at working girls.

Later part in life when I started clubbing, friends and I would head to Geylang for the usual supper. It was also on those many occasions where I saw the street walkers. Used to wonder how life was like for them. How did they even get past the mind-heart-body separation to do what they have to? Used to wonder what kind of horrid things had befallen them for them to deliberately choose this field.

Naive as I was back then, I always felt that surely they did have a choice. And it must be they opted to take the easy way out.

Never did I imagine that many years later, I would be making the same decision just like the hundreds and thousands of girls before my time.

I was brought up by my Catholic / Christian parents. I have got a brother. And liked all siblings of the opposite sex, we used to fight a lot but we were still close. Only in later life, that we drifted apart. Both of us were brought up based on Chinese traditional and Christian / Catholic values, and above all, that sex was a sacred thing. Something that must be saved for your one and only marriage (They disapproved of divorce as a way out.).

I went through my early childhood and teenage years with no major drama. Didn’t cause my parents any grief or heartache. My brother and I were their pride and joy. Writing this part brings tears to my eyes for how far have I departed from being that same young girl.

I graduated from the girls’ school with 7 As and 1 Bs. Enough to qualify me for junior college or even poly, if I desired. I shall not state the option I chose since the focus is not on my field of study.

During the pre-tertiary days, I discovered what they meant by clubbing. And like all late teens and young adults before me, I also discovered alcohol. It was at Zouk that I met Wayne, who would later become my fiancé. He wasn’t extremely good looking. In fact, my girlfriends used to say he looked like an Uncle for he appeared to be on the brink of balding. He was extremely tall not fit. He was a little rotund.

But what drew me to him was his love for poems. Like me.

I first set eyes upon him when I stepped out of the club for a breather. The thumping of the music was too much for me and I stepped out to the entrance / patio of Zouk. He didn’t see me walk out and had cut across my path like a bulldozer, causing me to totter on my heels and fell.

His voice was a deep, soothing alto. I remembered how large his hands were as he helped me up. And said the standard apologies. After helping me to my feet, I hobbled to the pavement nearby. He followed me and we struck up a conversation. Turned out he was the brother of my brother’s friend. He was surprised I used to be from a certain girls’ school as he was an ex alumni of a nearby boys’ school. We hit off from there, both noting the shared likes for literature and poems and what nots.

Not long after we started dating. Even during our dating phase, I had fully disclosed to him that sex was sacred and that I fully intended to save it for my future husband. Wayne understood and respected my ideals and decision. (Lofty as they may be in this realistic sexualized world.)

Two years on and my father decided to send me overseas to the States to continue my tertiary education. I did not fancy going there as my results were good enough to secure a place in the local university, but mostly because I wanted to be with Wayne.

Wayne being older than me by four years, had started working by then. We resolved to make it work. My family had met Wayne multiple times and they were all fond of him. He decided to ask my parents for my hand in marriage.

My father was reluctant. So were my mum. Both of them felt that I was far too young to settle down, fearing that I might change my mind later on in life. After much persuasion from Wayne, my parents relented and we got engaged to each other, one month before I departed for the States.

I had expected Wayne to be as patient as he was during those two years together, about my stand on sex. A week before my departure, we went out for a farewell gathering cum belated engagement celebration with close friends at a club. Although I was able to hold my liquor well, that night I left the club very intoxicated, having to hold down 3/4 of a Whiskey bottle, and multiple tequila shots along with two or was it three of those awful Flaming Lamborghinis. Wayne couldn’t help much as he was driving that night.

We had made plans to spend the night at his house which he shared with his parents. He drove us home since he was super sober.

Upon reaching his house, he escorted me into the bathroom and while I was retching and heaving over the porcelain throne of a toilet bowl, he went to his bedroom and got me a clean towel, my standby pajamas at his place and cotton pads saturated with makeup remover liquid.

That was how sweet he had always been. He knew how anal I was about cleanliness and removal of all makeup prior to sleeping.

At this point after rinsing my mouth, I felt slightly better, but was still tipsy and intoxicated. Just not feeling nauseous anymore. Seeing me in that state, he helped me out of my jeans and lifted my shimmery translucent chiffon top over my head to take it off. We had touched each other before, and seen a section of each other’s naked body. I didn’t think, and couldn’t think. But at that point, I didn’t feel like it was a big deal. Though I vaguely remembered he paused for a while when all the clothes were taken off.

As I wasn’t steady on my feet, he made me sit down on the porcelain throne aka toilet bowl and proceeded to remove the remaining vestiges of undergarments.

He started to soap me up and lather my hair with shampoo etc.

After he had cleaned me up nice and proper, he led me to his bedroom where I promptly fell asleep.

At 4.30 am, I got woken up by his hands around me, right arm under my neck and left hand caressing my waist. I remembered the time so vividly because there was a clock with luminous hands on the wall facing me while I lay on my right.

I felt the hardness of his manhood pushing against my butt cheeks. I held his left hand and mumbled, “… Remember we promised to save it for our wedding night.”

He responded, “… I will remember…” And I left his hands to touch and roam every part of me. As my body responded to his touch and I turned around to kiss him fully on the mouth, he was lustfully squeezing my breasts then twiddled my nipples. And the pace picked up where he squeezed it with more force. I tried stopping him, but by now the inebriated me who was still feeling the residual effects of the alcohol, left me unable to exercise logic. There was such an ache in between my legs.

At this point, we both paused to catch our breaths from an extended frenching. With my pajamas dress now hiked up to my chest and revealing the bare nakedness of the smooth swells of my breasts, I held his face and told him “We need to stop. Remember our pact to save it for our wedding night.” By now his manhood was so erect it was straining against my panty, and I could feel heat from his rod emanating from it.

He looked at me half dazed and with a steely look that suddenly came over his eyes, his next words chilled me at that point. “I am going to make you mine…”

What happened next still plays vividly in my head. Up to this day.

He was like a man crazed, thirsty like a lion who got lost in the Sahara Desert. Before I could protest, he pushed me down against the pillow and started kissing me hungrily, using his right hand to pin down both my wrists, all the while using his free hand to release his bulging manhood from his boxer shorts.

With his mouth firmly on me, no amount of resistance seemed to wake him to his senses. With one deft swipe, he pushed my panty to one side, exposing the forbidden entrance.

He plunged into me.

The pain was excruciating. Whoever had said the pain while being painful was not that excruciating and was bearable, must have been taking drugs or some pain killers or their pain threshold was so much higher than me.

The first plunge, I gasped. With his mouth on me, my tongue couldn’t even react at all. It was that painful.

I knew he hadn’t fully broken through the barrier for it felt like I would burst from the bulging manhood inside me. He withdrew and plunged once more and again and then again… Tears rolled down from the side of my eyes…

It felt like eternity. But it probably lasted six to ten minutes. As he entered me again and penetrated again and again, the previously virginal entrance still hurt, but there was a growing sense of euphoria. It was as if the there was a slight element of pleasure amongst the pain. With a cry, he buried his face in my hair and erupted inside me.

On thinking back, I wondered what it was with all guys where it seems that they seemed to regain their sanity after they had ejaculated. Wayne was the first to show me this. A realization appeared to come over him and his eyes clouded over. Only at this point did he noticed the wet patches on the pillow next to my head / ears. Tears.

What happened next still was a little blurry for me. I vaguely remembered profuse sorry-s from him and some vague promises of taking responsibility, etc. At that point, I just felt wretched. Failed to retain the only thing that in my eyes was what counted as a woman’s true worth.

The next few days passed by in a blur. I refused to take his calls. He came by to my place to visit me. I kept saying I wasn’t well. On the day before my departure, he came by my place again. My parents were out. My brother let him into the house.

He opened the door to my bedroom. Surprised to see him, yet I didn’t know what to say to him.

To my surprise, he knelt down before me and said how sorry he was and what an ass he was etc, but strangely I only remembered this excerpt from the entire long speech he made: “… I will wait for you no matter what and will make you my wife. If you do not wish to ever see me again and it will make you happy, I will understand. But if you will give me a chance to make it up to you, I will give you a home and family of your own, and the rightful status of a wife…”

That day with just a mere 18 hours before my departure, we set about ironing out the kinks in our relationship. We talked, we cried and we laughed.

Next day, I left Singapore for the States.

Washington DC, Georgetown

Flight with stopover in Tokyo.

My hand in his. The warmth of his large hand holding tightly to my cold clammy hand. That was what I remembered as Wayne and I stood together at the check-in counter, waiting for my boarding pass to be issued. I was in turn mesmerized by the swallowing of each luggage on the belt into the big hole at the end of the line.

“Hey sweetie… Time to go. Got your boarding pass…” Felt a tug at my hand. It was Wayne looking at me, concerned look on his face.

Shook myself out of the daze I was in and with his hand still holding on to mine, we proceeded to where my family was waiting, at the departure gate.

Saying goodbyes was so hard even though it was not like I wasn’t going to come back. As a typical Chinese family who were not forthcoming with our expressions of love, I watched my dad, who was expressionless, trying to soothe my mum, whose eyes was glistening with tears. My brother on the other hand, young as he was, seemed to feel only excitement on my behalf at the prospect of a solo trip overseas. “Chae chae, remember to get me magnets from each State hor. When you come back, of course.” I responded with a laugh and ruffled his hair. My kid brother hated it most when I did that. “Ello… Maciam I have a lot of free time…” *Whispered* “If I flunk my papers, gonna blame it on you and your many requests. I will try my best la but I will probably cheat a bit ah and see if I can get it online… Haha…”

I turned my attention to my mum and fought the urge to hug my mum because I so wanted to bawl my eyes out. Regardless of how old you became, that had always been what I felt like doing whenever I was upset. That was how I felt like doing, in the aftermath of my first day as a FL.

Anyway, I didn’t hug my mum in the end. Traditional Chinese culture just didn’t encourage physical hugging and kisses. That was also the reason why my parents still did not know up to this date, what Wayne had done. Surely my dad would kill him. Literally. My mum just kept saying, “Ah girl, you must call home often ok? Don’t worry about IDD cost. Anything, anytime, just call ok? You must take care of yourself. If you run into problems there, call Uncle Ted immediately…” Uncle Ted was my dad’s ex colleague and whose friendship with my dad ran back several tons of years when they were both in the shipping industry.

She paused, seemingly to regain her composure. And continued “… And tohlong, don’t you dare come back with some weird blond hair, tattoos and some metal thing in your nose, like your cousin hor.”

I laughed at that. So typical of my mum to say that. “I won’t la. Don’t worry.”

I set my eyes on Wayne. He looked like he was holding his breath. Like he would burst with tears and what nots if he released. A modest embrace later (My parents’ eyes were on us after all.), he whispered “Don’t let your heart change, you must remember I will be here waiting for you…” I nodded.

With that, I released his hand, which had never left mine all this while and walked towards the glass enclosure.

“Ping.” I was woken up by the sound of the seatbelt sign going off. I had slept for a good part of the flight and had survived the stopover in Tokyo, en route to Washington. As the air stewardesses walked around checking on passengers and reminding all to fasten their seatbelt, I was starting to feel a growing sense of excitement at embarking on a new phase of my life.

Uncle Ted. Only met him once when I was a toddler, but I didn’t remember him at all.

As I trooped out of the arrival gate with other arriving passengers, I was looking for someone who looked as old as my dad. As I was glancing around for this Uncle Ted, who was to pick me up, suddenly a tall man in a beige blazer, stepped in front of me.

“You must be Claris. Uncle Ted here. Almost couldn’t recognize you. You looked different from the picture your father sent me.” I nodded. My tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth. Because before me stood a gorgeous looking specimen of a man. A full head of black hair interspersed with a few white peeking out. Rosy clear unblemished skin. Eyes with brown irises with a sharp aquiline nose. He could easily pass off for someone who was ten years younger than my dad. He looked Chinese yet a wee bit more Eurasian as well. Later on, I would find out his mum was Chinese while his dad was a Korean American Eurasian or hybrid. LOL whatever you call it.

He paused and wondered if he had gotten the wrong person. “You are Claris, right…?”

I broke out of my reverie. “Yup!”

“Great! I thought I had picked up the wrong person. If you were not Claris, I would have asked for your number! Haha. Come right this way, and let’s quickly hit the road before traffic becomes darn crazy.”

I couldn’t help but blush.

With that, he led the way.

All throughout the car journey, we made small talk. Uncle Ted was easy to talk to. I also found out he had just gone through a divorce and was staying alone in his Washington apartment. He was working as an actuary.

Not before long, (Time appeared to travel faster when you were with a great conversationalist.), we arrived at his downtown apartment. He parked his car in the garage and led me to the apartment.

It wasn’t super luxurious but it was finely decked out with a great kitchen and a lovely sofa and recliner with a sheepskin rug and most of life’s modern conveniences.

He led me to the bedroom where I would be staying at for the next three years. And where police officers would troop in and out of the apartment to gather evidence towards the end of my education there.

My dad had wired enough money over and with that, we set about getting daily supplies and sorting out school stuff. Uncle Ted also helped me obtain a modest second hand car with the money, as I wasn’t living on campus. Usually freshmen were required to stay on campus for the first year. But my dad was worried about me going crazy with the new found freedom and lack of on-site parental guidance, so he applied for exemption based on Uncle Ted being appointed as a guardian of mine.

So a car was necessary for me to be able to get to school daily.

Life as a freshman passed fast. I made some friends, and also started receiving more invites to home parties and gatherings etc. Life was good. I was coping well with school work and was well adjusted to life alone in Washington. Home sickness was worse in the first few weeks, but these were alleviated by frequent calls back home. I also missed Wayne terribly, but we would set a time where I would call or MSN at evening or night and where he would wake up early morning to hear from me for just five to ten minutes.

It also helped tremendously that Uncle Ted was fun to be with. And despite the age gap between us (He was 22 years my senior.), he felt more like a mentoring figure and friend rather than an Uncle. He loved cooking and loved pairing his food with fine wine.

While he never mentioned his ex wife much, on the few occasions he did, it was always my mannerisms that triggered him to mention her. Like eating so very slowly, that while he was long done with his meal, I would still be sitting there with my dinner three quarters done at best. My habit of washing my hands and feet the minute I stepped into the house, even if it was for a short walk downstairs to the car to pick up an item, be it winter or summer. He always said I reminded him of her. I never prodded much into his past marriage and the divorce. All I knew was she opted to leave and she wanted a divorce. That she was an American Chinese. And that they used to work together.

My second Christmas in Washington soon descended upon me. And with that, Wayne as well. I had already made plans where to bring him and all. I had also asked Uncle Ted if it was convenient for Wayne to stay with us during his week long visit. Uncle Ted was fine, but I thought I felt that he didn’t seem to like it. At that time, thought it was because having an extra person over meant infringing on his private time at home. But I didn’t give it much thought then.

Uncle Ted made his third bedroom which housed his books and all, into a temporary sleeping place for Wayne.

On his first day in Washington, Uncle Ted had to go to work so Wayne wasn’t able to put a face to the name. We headed out to a nearby diner for an early dinner and took an early evening stroll back to the apartment. As the apartment was dark when we reached home, we both wrongly assumed that Uncle Ted wasn’t home yet.

Absence does make the heart fonder. We headed into my bedroom and Wayne played some Michael Buble’s songs that I loved. As we sat on my bed, the moment just seemed so right. As his lips touched mine, it sent such an ache into my heart. I missed him so much, just that I chose to bury them deep inside so that I could focus on my studies. He planted a kiss on my forehead and his lips came back to where it belonged: on mine. Soon we were exploring each other’s orifice of a mouth, like two hungry souls. It felt so good to be able to kiss him. And felt him reciprocate in kind by his tongue’s gentle prodding. His hands were gently touching the bottom swells of my breasts through my thick pullover.

We didn’t realize that the bedroom door was opened. And lord knew how long Uncle Ted had been watching us. We were interrupted by a stern voice. Claris!”

We broke apart as swiftly as the thin ice on the lake. A deep warmth grew from my stomach to my face. I blushed so red I half expected myself to *phoof* turn into a tomato. Shocked as I was, I could only say, “I’m sorry Uncle Ted. It was a kiss. I am sorry, so sorry… Wasn’t planned.”

Uncle Ted’s response was scathing to say the least. “Is this what your parents should know you are up to when I allowed your boyfriend to stay over? How should I answer to them?”

I looked up at Uncle Ted and to my surprise his angry gaze wasn’t upon me but on Wayne. Wayne looked apologetic but also unhappy. “… This wasn’t planned at all.” He mumbled.

Uncle Ted ignored Wayne’s response and fired back with, Claris, you ought to be ashamed of yourself.” I blushed an even deeper shade of red.

Stealing a glance at Wayne, I saw him looking back at Uncle Ted with a defiance that I had never seen before.

Claris is my fiancé. And in time to come, will soon be my wife. I asked her parents for her hand in marriage and her parents are well aware that we are together and will be married when her studies are completed.”

I was speechless yet at the same time, marveled at how my mellow Wayne, who also hated fights and arguments of all sorts, to respond so gallantly. With a huff, Uncle Ted walked off into his bedroom with a sharp slam of the door.

The magic of the previous romantic moment had dissipated by now. After some tender words from Wayne to calm my racing mind down, and after both of us had washed up (Individually of course.), Wayne suggested that we should both have an early night after the fiasco earlier. With that, we bade each other good night and he went to his bedroom.

Wayne’s week-long visit to Washington soon came to an end. Throughout the entire week, I didn’t see Uncle Ted much, except during breakfast every morning. Which was a good thing. Part of me felt ashamed? Or rather pai say to see him, especially after what he saw. Another part of me felt responsible for his apparent dislike or indifference to Wayne. He didn’t say much to Wayne except a passing greeting like good morning.

Wayne was respectful yet aloof. But it was apparent he didn’t like Uncle Ted much.

Each morning, Uncle Ted would sit next to me at breakfast as was our usual seating arrangements when there were only me and him. Now that Wayne was here, he didn’t appear to want to relinquish his seat next to me, seemingly ignored Wayne and let him take the seat opposite me. Wayne’s eyes would always appear clouded. Many a times, Wayne appeared troubled and seemed to have something he wanted to tell me. Invariably, we would be interrupted by some other matters or impromptu conversations that Uncle Ted started. As such, those moments passed.

The day before Wayne was due to depart for Singapore, we took a leisurely stroll downtown and went shopping for souvenirs that he would bring back to his family and friends. On our drive back to Silver Spring in Washington, we decided to hit the supermarket and get some fresh produce and some wine so that we could cook at home. Uncle Ted had phoned my mobile to inform me that he was just dumped with a last minute trip to Oklahoma City. I was secretly pleased that he wasn’t going to be around. Especially since it was the last night of Wayne’s stay here.

We got home. Prepared dinner. And together, Wayne and I sat down to a lovely home cooked Chinese meal. After all, I kind of got sick of the steaks, the salads, the potatoes, the sausages, the sandwiches and funky western broth. Having that meal together, it seemed like that would be the kind of life Wayne and I would settle down to after marriage. And nothing pleased me more than the thought of being able to cook for my future husband and being able to share a meal together. The simplicity of such happiness.

With our stomachs satisfied, we brought out the wine from the chiller and sat out on the patio. We plugged in the portable heater that Uncle Ted had on his patio, and that soon made the winter drafty temperatures more bearable.

As we sat there, we had quite a few laughs and we’re talking about what we would do when I finally returned to Singapore. We talked about our dreams and goals. At that instant, it felt like we were invincible and surely we could accomplish anything and everything. As the night drew to a close, our conversation became interspersed with longer patches of silence. For we were both aware that the next time we would see each other again, would be a year odd later.

It was at this point, Wayne spoke up.

Claris, listen. I have something to say and I want you to promise not to tell Uncle Ted what I said. And you need to promise me that any second that you feel like you would be in danger or not at ease, call me or your parents immediately.”

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2 Responses

  1. Tallruby3 says:

    I literally cried at the end of the story . It’s really heartbreaking!

  2. L says:

    I hope you found love.

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