Chapter 78 Palm Kiss
After the performance, when Sang Luo was changing clothes in the dressing room backstage, he vaguely heard noisy sounds coming from the tavern lobby.
"What's going on out there?" he asked a lady who came over to give him a tip.
Putting a small piece of silver into Sang Luo's coat pocket, the lady said with a smile, "They are just some timid men who were frightened by your wonderful performance. It's very foggy outside. Be careful on your way back."
Sang Luo nodded obediently.
So this beautiful woman, who was in her forties but well-maintained and looked only in her early thirties, couldn't help but pinch Sang Luo's face and stuffed a handful of copper coins into his pocket.
"Go." Finally, the lady patted Sang Luo's shoulder like a gentle elder and urged him to go faster.
She also elegantly lifted her skirt and went back to the bar to continue her consumption.
Sang Luo touched his coat pocket which was a little bulging and felt very happy.
The tips he earned tonight were enough for him to live comfortably for the next few days.
After finishing a day's work, Sang Luo left through the back door as usual.
As soon as he stepped out of the door, he realized something was wrong.
As the lady said, outside, the entire alley was filled with thick fog and visibility was extremely low.
The sky was so low that it was impossible to tell whether it was clouds or fog. It was so dark that you couldn't see your hand in front of you.
Sang Luo stood at the back door of the tavern, and for a moment, he was a little confused - it was pitch black and foggy, the lights around him were dim, and he couldn't see anything. How could he go out?
He subconsciously took a few steps on the spot, but accidentally kicked the trash can.
The loud noise made by the iron sheet startled Sang Luo.
He quickly retreated back into the tavern, quickly locked the door, and touched his pounding heart.
I have a feeling that something bad is going to happen...
Just then, someone knocked on the iron door at the back door.
"Who is it?" Sang Luo asked vigilantly.
No answer.
I'm the only one backstage now, and it's so foggy outside that you can't see your hand in front of you. How could someone suddenly come knocking on the back door of the pub?
The first few times he got off work, Sang Luo never met anyone at the back door.
Except for Mr. Hart, who would wait for him after get off work and take him back to the hotel...
Wait, Mr. Hart?
Sang Luo walked forward and asked the person outside: "Is this Mr. Hart? If so, please knock three times."
Soon, someone outside knocked on the door three times.
Sang Luo never thought about whether there would be some ghosts hiding in the dark on such a weird night, disguising themselves as people he was familiar with, and then doing something excessive.
He just felt at ease.
Sang Luo opened the door and saw the figure of a man wearing a wax windbreaker who was very familiar to him. A smile of surprise immediately appeared on his face.
"Mr. Hart!" he said, "are you here to take me home?"
The man nodded.
The thick fog almost covered the top hat on his head.
But his presence gave Sang Luo an unparalleled sense of security.
The man bent his arm, and Sangsangluo, who understood what he meant, put her arm around him.
The two walked through the thick fog like a pair of intimate lovers.
Sang Luo asked him, "What were you doing tonight? Why did you leave in such a hurry?"
After saying this, Sang Luo realized that he shouldn't have asked.
It must be a very important personal matter that made Mr. Hart give up his favorite ghost story talk show and rush to deal with it.
Since he didn't explain at that time, I shouldn't ask now.
Then, Sang Luo added: "You don't have to tell me, I'm already very happy that you can come and pick me up and take me back to the hotel."
It is not easy to have someone to accompany you in such a foggy night.
Sang Luo warned himself not to be the one who took the initiative to cross the line.
The hotel was very close to the Dream Tavern. Sang Luo was thinking about something and didn't pay attention to the road. He almost relied on Mr. Hart wholeheartedly, relying on him to have a sense of direction and to take him back to the hotel safely.
The man walked with firm steps through the fog, leading Sang Luo. After a while, they arrived at the hotel where Sang Luo was staying.
After hesitating for a moment, Sang Luo asked him, "Do you want to go up and sit for a while?"
The man didn't answer.
Sang Luo was a little embarrassed. He stammered, "I don't mean anything else. It's just that the fog is too thick. I think it's not safe to walk on the street so late. Maybe a little later, in the early morning, the fog will clear up a little. Do you want to go upstairs and sit with me for a while before we go? I'll make you some tea."
He remembered that Mr. Hart could not speak, and the visibility was so low in the fog that even the lights on in the hotel behind them flickered and were not very clear. In such an environment, the man could not write to tell him the answer.
Coincidentally, he is a very dignified and elegant person, and very reluctant to make large body movements.
Sang Luo simply stretched out a hand and asked again: "Do you want it or not?"
A big hand wearing a leather glove held Sang Luo's smaller hand and completely wrapped it inside.
Simple contact makes people blush.
With a blushing face, Sang Luo, holding the hand of the tall man behind her, went upstairs under the teasing and ambiguous gaze of the receptionist.
…
"Isn't it hot?" Sang Luo took off his coat and kicked off his shoes in a few seconds, and asked Mr. Hart, who had already changed into indoor shoes when he turned around to hang up his clothes.
The man shook his head.
The flat shoes similar to slippers he was wearing were Sang Luo's.
It was a little small for men, so a large part of the heel covered by socks was exposed behind the slippers.
Sang Luo pursed her lips and smiled secretly.
He gave his slippers to Mr. Hart and walked on the wooden floor in his socks.
The Red Pomegranate Town located in the mountains is really too cold. Fortunately, the hotel that Mr. Hart introduced to Sang Luo looks shabby, but it has heating for about six hours at night - the boiler room in the basement of the hotel is continuously operating, and pipes transport hot water to each room, allowing guests to take a hot bath before going to bed, or have a drink of hot water.
Sang Luo usually only wears pajamas when he returns to the hotel at night.
His pajamas were just a loose white shirt that covered his thighs.
But today, because there were guests visiting, Sang Luo didn't take off his pants boldly.
He was wearing a shirt and slacks, and thick cashmere socks, and he was walking on a floor that he had mopped specially.
Seeing that Mr. Hart was unwilling to take off his coat, and even his hat and scarf, Sang Luo was a little confused.
What exactly is Mr. Hart's identity?
Why is the level of confidentiality so high?
Seeing that Mr. Hart seemed a little embarrassed, Sang Luo pushed him to sit on the only single sofa in the room.
He walked to the window and opened it a little to let in some cool air so that the room wouldn't be too hot and wouldn't overheat Mr. Hart, who was wrapped up tightly.
Thinking that Mr. Hart never ate in front of her, Sang Luo just poured herself a cup of hot water.
After doing all this, he held the cup and sat down on the stool at the end of the bed.
This position happens to be facing Mr. Hart who is sitting on the single sofa in the center.
The distance between the two was very close, so close that the white gas exhaled by Sang Luo would linger on the man's windbreaker for a few seconds before reluctantly dissipating.
The two of them didn't communicate much from the moment they entered the room.
Even Sang Luo, who is usually talkative, was silent.
"Ding ding ding—" The large spire clock in the center of the town broadcast twelve times.
Sang Luo murmured, "It's midnight."
He blew gently and touched the edge of the cup with his lips. Feeling that the water was not so hot anymore, he drank it in small sips.
Sang Luo lowered his eyes, looking calm and relaxed, but in fact, there was a sharp buzzing in his head.
I wanted to ask Mr. Hart to stop looking at me like that.
Because the atmosphere is really weird...
At midnight, a man and a woman were alone together in a small, shabby hotel that was no smaller than the watchtower at the school gate.
Still not talking.
It's like the kind of meeting someone made online, where you're a little embarrassed when you first meet them, and you're trying to get to know each other's illegal relationship.
Thinking of this, Sang Luo mustered up the courage to ask, "Mr. Hart, I've always wanted to ask you..."
Mr. Hart tilted his head slightly, a gesture of listening carefully.
"...I want to ask you, do you have a wife, or any other intimate relationship?" Sang Luo finally asked the questions that he had been holding in his heart for several days.
Regardless of whether he has a good impression of Mr. Hart or whether Mr. Hart's recent actions are intended to get closer to him.
First, he must be single and uncommitted.
In this way, Sang Luo could calmly accept the special treatment he gave her.
Otherwise, starting from the monthly subscription of chestnut cake, he would be considered shameless and unable to judge the limits.
Mr. Hart was too mysterious. Sang Luo couldn't see through him at all, so he could only ask directly.
If the mature Mr. Hart is actually the husband of a lady, the father of a child, or he has an agreement with someone about marriage and the future.
Then I must draw a clear line between myself and Mr. Hart.
Let the relationship between the two remain only at the level of performer and spectator.
He will reject all private date invitations, control his heart, and not like someone who is not suitable for him.
But what if…
The man opposite shook his head.
Perhaps because he was afraid that his expression was not clear enough, he stood up and looked around, but found that there was no paper, pen or ink in the room. He guessed that they should still be in Sang Luo's coat pocket.
He simply walked up to Sang Luo and knelt on one knee.
This posture made him look a few inches shorter than Sang Luo, who was sitting on the stool at the end of the bed.
Sang Luo still couldn't see Mr. Hart's face, but he could see the top of his hat, which was lowered because of her.
Her wrist was held and her hand was taken away by the man.
A slight itching sensation made Sang Luo's eyes widen suddenly.
It was Mr. Hart, writing on Sang Luo's palm with his leather-wrapped index finger.
Every stroke was done with extreme care.
He wrote: I have no wife or other intimate relationship.
He wrote: You are the closest person to me so far.
He wrote: Sang Luo, you are very special and I am very interested in you.
It took me about ten minutes to write this.
During the process, every time Sang Luo wanted to retract his hand because of the itchiness in his palm, the man would notice this in advance and hold his wrist tightly to prevent him from escaping.
Sang Luo endured the itch and the heat on his face, and slowly read every word Mr. Hart wrote on his palm.
I also understood the meaning of the sentences composed of these words.
Then his face turned even redder.
By the time the man finally finished writing, Sang Luo's shoulders, neck and insteps had been stretched to the limit because of the attempt to suppress the itch, and they couldn't be stretched any tighter.
He asked the man, "Okay, okay? I understand what you mean."
Hearing this, the man drew another round period on the palm of his hand.
It means, okay, that's it.
Sang Luo tried to pull his hand back again.
"Now that you've said that, let me go... um..."
A soft kiss fell upon the palm of his hand.
Sang Luo actually couldn't see clearly whether it was a kiss or not.
But he could feel the warm lips and tongue on his palm, and the man's head lowered deeply between his legs.
This must be a kiss.
Gentle and sincere, different from the seductive actions that Sang Biao took to please Da Piaoliang.
It was a kiss with a flattering meaning.
Before the kiss could be spoiled by some wet, hot and soft object, Sang Luo came to his senses and quickly pulled his hand back.
He put his hands behind his back, blushed, and tried to look fierce, but his voice stammered:
"No more kissing!"
·
After Mr. Hart left, it took a while for Sang Luo to calm down a little.
He closed the window he had just opened.
Then he took off his pants, bare his legs, and rolled around on the bed a few times.
Sang Luo didn't know how to express his feelings.
He had just flirted with a mysterious man from another world in a hotel room...
Is it flirting? Yes, it is flirting!
Sang Luo held her hot face and couldn't help but smile foolishly.
Even though he still didn't know Mr. Hart's true identity and appearance, he couldn't help but feel his heart beating for this man.
A long time ago, Sang Luo first realized her sexual orientation and fell in love with a boy in school who loved playing basketball.
I was the same during that unrequited love, I would be surprised by the smallest things.
So, Mr. Hart's actions today are hinting to me that he has feelings for me too?
Does he like me?
Sang Luo rolled around on the bed a few more times and was completely restless this time.
He stepped barefoot on the floor and ran to the clothes rack at the door, intending to write down what had just happened.
But he took out a feather pen that had been broken into two pieces from his coat pocket.
"Huh? When did it break?" Sang Luo blinked, very confused.
It was clearly fine when I was cleaning it up in the afternoon?
In this case, I can only start using the gift box Mr. Hart gave me.
I'm a little reluctant.
Outside the window, the thick fog that clung to the glass window had thinned out a little.
Perhaps it had done something bad that made it feel guilty, so it did not sneak into the room that night.
It was only when Sang Luo kicked off the quilt because the wall heater was too hot, revealing her two strong and slender thighs, that she turned into a black shadow and appeared in the room.
He looked around, ironed clothes, and arranged decorations.
He looks like a pitch-black little snail.
Finally, it came to the bed and stared at Sang Luo for a long time.
It was not until the hotel's heating was about to end and the temperature in the room gradually dropped that she, like an old nanny, considerately covered the young man who was sleeping soundly on the bed with a quilt, covering his bare thighs.
"Sang Luo, cute."
A low, insect-like voice whispered.
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The author has something to say:
Thank you to the little angels who voted for me or provided nutrient solution between 2023-11-09 19:29:37 and 2023-11-10 23:01:13~
Thanks to the little angels who cast mines: 2 maniacs holding mandarin duck bellybands; 1 cold lamp;
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Thank you very much for your support. I will continue to work hard!
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