Chapter 2: Tastes of Something New

The restaurant was perched on a terrace above the sea, its open-air design allowing a breeze to stir the white linen drapes as soft lighting flickered from hurricane lanterns on each table. A string quartet played a low, melodic tune somewhere beyond the patio, its rhythm slow and pulsing, like a heartbeat heard through silk.

James and Melena sat across from one another, their wine glasses catching the candlelight as they clinked a toast—his to new adventures, hers to unexpected chemistry.

The waiter had brought a bottle of chilled rosé—crisp, floral, and a little indulgent for the warm evening. Melena had picked it with a knowing smile, murmuring, “Something light, something that teases the tongue.” James had felt himself flush, not entirely from the wine.

They lingered over the menu, James watching her eyes as they scanned the pages—how she licked her bottom lip when she read something she liked, how her fingers tapped the stem of her glass thoughtfully. Her dress shimmered every time she moved, catching light like wet skin, and he couldn’t help but imagine how it might look crumpled on the floor of her room.

“I want you to choose for me,” he said at last, setting down the menu. “Something I wouldn’t pick myself. Surprise me.”

Melena tilted her head, clearly pleased. “Are you sure? I could be dangerous.”

“I’m counting on it.”

She ordered for them both in lilting Cebuano, her voice low and sure. When the waiter left, she leaned forward just enough to let the candlelight dance across the tops of her breasts. Her fingers traced the rim of her glass, slow, deliberate, sensual.

“You like giving up control sometimes, James?”

His breath caught—just slightly—but he smiled, keeping his eyes on hers. “Sometimes. With the right woman.”

“And how do you know if it’s the right one?” she asked, her voice a little softer, a little more curious.

“I think,” he said, “she makes you forget what you thought you wanted. And offers you something better.”

Her smile deepened. There was something behind her eyes now—an awareness, a decision not yet spoken but already shaped.

The food arrived—sizzling scallops in coconut cream and calamansi, grilled blue marlin brushed with garlic oil, and tiny skewers of pork belly dusted with chili sugar and served on banana leaves. The flavours were bold, bright, unfamiliar to James but delicious.

He moaned softly as he bit into one of the skewers, and Melena’s eyes darkened.

“Careful,” she murmured. “Sounds like you’re enjoying that a little too much.”

“I’m just appreciating good taste,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“Mmm,” she replied, sipping her wine. “Let’s hope your taste holds up later.”

Conversation drifted from travel to fantasies, their voices growing quieter, more intimate, as the evening wore on. Their knees brushed beneath the table, and neither of them pulled away. Melena touched his hand once when telling a story about a beach in El Nido—her fingers warm, her thumb grazing the back of his wrist. It wasn’t an accident.

By the time the plates were cleared, and the air had cooled to something sultry and expectant, the waitress returned with the dessert menu. Melena barely glanced at it.

“Not yet,” she said sweetly, handing it back with a demure smile. “I think we’ll wait till later.”

When they were alone again, James raised a brow. “Not in the mood for something sweet?”

Melena looked at him with eyes that no longer played innocent. Her voice dropped to something quieter—richer.

“Oh, I am. Just ... not from the menu.”

She leaned in then, slowly, her elbow on the table, her lips near his ear.

“I was thinking,” she whispered, “maybe we could go to the club for a drink. Maybe dance. And if we’re lucky...” She paused, letting the silence do its work. “Maybe we’ll find our dessert there.”

James turned toward her, his pulse suddenly roaring in his ears.

She met his gaze with complete composure. “A woman,” she said, with a small shrug. “Someone beautiful. Someone soft. Someone who might want to come back to my room with us.”

He stared at her, stunned by the casual intensity of it. The suggestion. The confidence. The want.

Melena smiled and took another sip of wine, watching him over the rim of her glass.

“You said you wanted something new.”

The breeze tugged at the hem of her dress, lifting it just enough to reveal the edge of her thigh. She didn’t smooth it down.

“Do you still?” she asked, eyes burning.

James could only nod.