isn’t it? Do I want him to stay? Yes! But only scream this in my head. But my scared irrational-rational part is not so sure, which in other words means I want him to decide for us. So “I don’t know” is all I can manage to spout in my confused state.
“Well, if you don’t know then I mustn’t either and leave you to figure it all out for us. And I sincerely hope that you will figure it all out for our sake. And be warned too, Ms. Sharma, when and if you decide in our favor and consequently call me back to your lovely home, I hope you will be prepared for what is to happen. I will not promise gentlemanly behavior then. Every seduction has a goal and a conclusion. I hope we can find ours.” And delivers all this with a degree of intensity that infuses a deep truth into his threat-promise.
He pats my cheek in this avuncular way that belies his previous delivery of and about hot stuff. He hauls himself to his feet using my thighs as a squeezable leverage. How freaking convenient and hot at the same time! And now he just stands there, looking down at me. After a few hundred beats (of my heart against my ribs), he holds out his hand. I take it and he pulls me up holding my body close to his—finally we make contact of the substantial kind. I can feel a bulge at my abdomen. And as I stand enclosed in his body, the bulge seems to grow. I step back involuntarily. He chuckles! He actually chuckles at my reaction knowing exactly what he is doing to me. He continues to hold my hand as he leads me through to the living room. He buckles up his bag all the while holding me with the other.
He pulls me with him to the front door as if he is intending to take me with him to wherever he is going. At the door, he turns around, kisses my mouth hard, then kisses the hand he is still holding in his, turns around, unlocks the door and without another glance lets himself out. I lock the door behind him and then rush to the living room to see him kick-start his scooter. He wears his helmet and all the while I watch him watching the glass doors as if fully expecting me to be watching him leave. I think I can see a small smirk play on his lips. And then in a filigree of black exhaust smoke he is gone. I am suddenly aware of other things—bird chatter in the Neem tree across the street, the heaviness of the heat in the darkness that is descending into the evening, a car horn here and there, some undecipherable chatter of nearby neighbors, a dog barking in the distance. This tells me how oblivious to everything I become in his presence and that is a scary thing, forget the good or the bad. As I walk back to the bedroom where the TV is still on, I feel my whole body uncoil. I breathe in and out to let go of the muscle tension. I hear Madhuri Dixit sing about her wildly beating heart, almost bursting through her barely together stringed blouse. I feel the same. Even if it is not my heart that is trying to bust through, some new emotion certainly is.
I know I affected him but I can only feel what I feel and I feel a lot. It is all (un) settling in my stomach, knees, feet, and even the tips of the nails of my feet. I don’t have a clue as to what to do with myself. Maybe pleasuring myself will do it? But this would make sense only if I could forget the hands that traveled to different spots on my body. Damn! This is all so frustrating. Shower should do it. Yes, I need a hot/cold shower to deal. As I crawl into bed an hour later all red skin and warm, I pray for a dreamless night. But I know no prayers would stop my sub conscience from returning to him via my dreams. This would seem my way of requiting in a semi-conscious state what was left incomplete in a conscious one. His gift lies on my side table, catching a spot of the moonlight filtering in and the silver twinkles like a certain set of black eyes I know. I know I am smiling as I fall into an exhausted sleep.
Chapter Fifteen
The bracelets are the first things I see when I wake up
“Well, if you don’t know then I mustn’t either and leave you to figure it all out for us. And I sincerely hope that you will figure it all out for our sake. And be warned too, Ms. Sharma, when and if you decide in our favor and consequently call me back to your lovely home, I hope you will be prepared for what is to happen. I will not promise gentlemanly behavior then. Every seduction has a goal and a conclusion. I hope we can find ours.” And delivers all this with a degree of intensity that infuses a deep truth into his threat-promise.
He pats my cheek in this avuncular way that belies his previous delivery of and about hot stuff. He hauls himself to his feet using my thighs as a squeezable leverage. How freaking convenient and hot at the same time! And now he just stands there, looking down at me. After a few hundred beats (of my heart against my ribs), he holds out his hand. I take it and he pulls me up holding my body close to his—finally we make contact of the substantial kind. I can feel a bulge at my abdomen. And as I stand enclosed in his body, the bulge seems to grow. I step back involuntarily. He chuckles! He actually chuckles at my reaction knowing exactly what he is doing to me. He continues to hold my hand as he leads me through to the living room. He buckles up his bag all the while holding me with the other.
He pulls me with him to the front door as if he is intending to take me with him to wherever he is going. At the door, he turns around, kisses my mouth hard, then kisses the hand he is still holding in his, turns around, unlocks the door and without another glance lets himself out. I lock the door behind him and then rush to the living room to see him kick-start his scooter. He wears his helmet and all the while I watch him watching the glass doors as if fully expecting me to be watching him leave. I think I can see a small smirk play on his lips. And then in a filigree of black exhaust smoke he is gone. I am suddenly aware of other things—bird chatter in the Neem tree across the street, the heaviness of the heat in the darkness that is descending into the evening, a car horn here and there, some undecipherable chatter of nearby neighbors, a dog barking in the distance. This tells me how oblivious to everything I become in his presence and that is a scary thing, forget the good or the bad. As I walk back to the bedroom where the TV is still on, I feel my whole body uncoil. I breathe in and out to let go of the muscle tension. I hear Madhuri Dixit sing about her wildly beating heart, almost bursting through her barely together stringed blouse. I feel the same. Even if it is not my heart that is trying to bust through, some new emotion certainly is.
I know I affected him but I can only feel what I feel and I feel a lot. It is all (un) settling in my stomach, knees, feet, and even the tips of the nails of my feet. I don’t have a clue as to what to do with myself. Maybe pleasuring myself will do it? But this would make sense only if I could forget the hands that traveled to different spots on my body. Damn! This is all so frustrating. Shower should do it. Yes, I need a hot/cold shower to deal. As I crawl into bed an hour later all red skin and warm, I pray for a dreamless night. But I know no prayers would stop my sub conscience from returning to him via my dreams. This would seem my way of requiting in a semi-conscious state what was left incomplete in a conscious one. His gift lies on my side table, catching a spot of the moonlight filtering in and the silver twinkles like a certain set of black eyes I know. I know I am smiling as I fall into an exhausted sleep.
Chapter Fifteen
The bracelets are the first things I see when I wake up
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