THERE he was standing inside the shoe store his agency had assigned him to guard against thieves, his attention focused on the shop’s two wide entrances. The establishment happened to be on a major thoroughfare, which occasionally had its share of petty crimes. So staying alert and keeping a close watch of all the people entering and leaving the place were among his priorities. Helping him observe the people and the area were the several female sales clerks the ethnic Chinese owner had employed.
The guard looked clean and tidy, appeared smart in his blue and white uniform and seemed confident in what he was doing. He was about five feet and six inches tall, which height was not bad at all, though a few more inches would be helpful. He had fair complexion and slanted eyes, which obviously revealed his racial background, that of the yellow or Mongoloid race to which the Burmese, Chinese, Japanese, Malays, Thais, Vietnamese and Philippine islanders, except the Negritoes, also belong.
From afar, he looked fresh and boyish but a closer inspection revealed a much fresher and cuter person. Adding to this rare pleasant appearance amongst Filipino private security guards were his clean and well-filed trimmed finger nails. It’s such a shame one couldn’t see the toe nails, but the finger nails were enough reason to believe this young man did care about his personal appearance. But of all the facial features that attracted Trog the most were his pink lips, which reminded one of Filipino actor Polo Ravales’es own pink lips. They were unlike Angelina Julie’s pouty lips but they were absolutely kissable. The Gods must have been kind to this Far East Asian specimen they gifted him with pink lips.
There were no hair strands rolling out of his nicely shaped nose, which was good news. Even a stolen glance at either ear indicated negative result.
He smelled of a familiar cologne, the one Trog had smelt all too often on train coaches, on buses, in the malls, and on the streets. And it’s a good cologne because the scent was pleasant and not overpowering, although it was familiar and cheap.
There, however, was something lacking in the package: gym-sculpted frame. A mere look at his body showed he was lean, but not thin, and had no broad shoulders, something evident among athletic men. At least he had no bulging tummy, a common issue amongst virtually all Filipino private security guards, save those few souls who had managed to maintain a flat abdomen through sheer fitness training. But what the heck! Chiseled body or not, it did not matter. This young guy was healthy-looking, boyish and cute, clean and fresh and appealing in his own right.
Does he have bad breath? , he thought to himself. Only by getting him to talk would one know if he harbored it. So talk he did.
“It’s just 350 a day, sir,” the guard said of his daily wage while avoiding Trog’s serious gaze at his otherwise innocent-looking face. Trog did look dead serious while trying to sense the smell of the guard’s breath. There appeared to be no bad breath but the guard must talk some more, if only to confirm his initial finding.
“Will PhP500 a day make you happier?” Trog countered with a flirty smile.
“Maybe 500 or 600 will do, sir,” the guard remarked looking a bit shy. That’s when he flashed that rare smile Trog had hoped to see. Trog had become quite familiar with the area where the store was located and would even walk past it whenever he passed through the area. Fact is, he had twice visited the shop and those occasions afforded him a chance to observe the twenty-something security guard while on duty. The smile was awesome, which only boosted his personality. While it was true he rarely grinned, he did not frown at all. One is tempted to think a smile was a luxury for this man but the absence of an occasional grin did not make him ugly either.
“You can work in a macho dancer bar,” Trog jestingly whispered to his traveling companion who tried unsuccessfully to photograph the store guard.
The smile made him even cuter in some ways. His pinks lips were the envy of most men, straight or homosexual, his breath smelled well and his good looks were a rarity in his chosen industry. He was not that gorgeous but he was not ugly either. What more could one ask for? As to whether he could work as a stripper, one wished no macho dancer bar executive could spot him and talk him into working in a male entertainment bar as a macho dancer establishment was also called.