Again. That same bed, the same bedsheet on it, the same dull curtains.
The only thing that attracted the eyes of any lonely soul was the old wooden bookshelf. It was stacked with fat hardbound copies of Dante's The Divine Comedy, Milton's Paradise Lost (This particular book longed for the company of Paradise Regained but unfortunately the owner had deprived it) and the Complete set of Shakespearean works.
She had been in that room a number of times before. The bed was an ancestral property aging more than a hundred years. She liked it from the very first day.
"I hate Spring. The advance of early summer winds, the terrible calls of the Koels...Dang! Irritating and annoying." She said. As if The time has come to fall in love. Again.
"Come here." He had offered her his hand.
"Where?" One of her eyebrows shot up in a query.
"Come." He repeated. This time just one single word. And that did it. As if under a spell, she couldn't refuse. She took his hand, climbed down the bed and followed him. He sat on the floor, leaning against the closed door which led to the balcony. He made her saddle on his stretched legs.
It was decided. Today was sorted. She knew what she had agreed on before getting in the cab with him.
"You're drunk. I wouldn't fuck you tonight." His voice declared the certainty of his unfaltering decision.
What?! "Okay." Disappointed. She could only say that before he claimed her mouth.
His lips painted her with the hues of blues and grays, maybe the red of her own let the feminity speak.
Gentle yet arousing, fierce yet passionate.
Her hands brushed along his nape, fingers clutched his thick dark hair. And in a few moments, her tipsy head could feel her breasts heaved and free. She gasped in his mouth.
"Um..how did you.." She struggled between the kisses finding it very difficult to stop kissing him.
"Did you just unhooked my bra?" How could he do that with one hand? Wasn't the other fondling her face?
He didn't answer, didn't smile...just stared straight into her eyes. His eyes are artistic and complement his hair. I like your eyes.
"How many women have you been with?" Her first mistake.
"Seventeen."
S-e-v-e-n-t-e-e-n?! "So I'm the eighteenth one. Didn't think the number would be of two digits. Good." A hint of jealousy.
"No. You're the first."
"Either you're poor in maths or you think me to be a fool." Aren't you a one?
"You're The one." He insisted.
She shrugged. Too much talking.
"Sorry I am not a good kisser." Are you kidding me? Other than my heartbeats, my hormones are willing to vouch for the truth.
Her lips couldn't bear the torture of being apart from his.The tongue swept along the jawline, crushed up to his ear, the teeth sinking on the soft lobe. He turned to bite on her neck. Don't leave any marks.
His hands were by them too busy pulling up her top, siding the soft fabric of the bra, exposing the breasts at his mercy. And they were too begging for his attention.
His sudden claim of one of her breasts. His mouth was warm, his tongue swirling along a nipple, his teeth lightly tugged it. Yes, the pleasing meter is rising.
Her hands fidgeted before finally managing to unzip his pants. I could feel him in my hands. The urge building, the intimacy growing.
Where were you all these years? Second Mistake.
"Let me taste you..."
That night He was a perfect gentleman.
"Help me...will you?"
As he helped her with the clasp of the bra, her eyes fell upon the book-shelf. "What books are those?"
"Take a look yourself." She rose up from the floor and advanced towards it. She had gone through the title and publication date of each book that night.
"This shelf seems incomplete, And not because it contains only a few books. It lacks the most important one."
Now the time had come for its New year gift.
She placed the set she had got for him on the middle shelf. She chose this time of the day for she no longer withhold strength to face him without breaking down in front of him. And her other persona wouldn't let that happen. So, she came in while he was at work and let the note do the rest from in between the pages of the favourite book of the set.
"Among the best classics of all time...I am letting my "Harry Potter" be yours. I no longer have the right to wish you well, at least I pray you will look after these.
~Godhuli: A name that you once gave me, a name I am letting you have."
The only thing that attracted the eyes of any lonely soul was the old wooden bookshelf. It was stacked with fat hardbound copies of Dante's The Divine Comedy, Milton's Paradise Lost (This particular book longed for the company of Paradise Regained but unfortunately the owner had deprived it) and the Complete set of Shakespearean works.
She had been in that room a number of times before. The bed was an ancestral property aging more than a hundred years. She liked it from the very first day.
"I hate Spring. The advance of early summer winds, the terrible calls of the Koels...Dang! Irritating and annoying." She said. As if The time has come to fall in love. Again.
"Come here." He had offered her his hand.
"Where?" One of her eyebrows shot up in a query.
"Come." He repeated. This time just one single word. And that did it. As if under a spell, she couldn't refuse. She took his hand, climbed down the bed and followed him. He sat on the floor, leaning against the closed door which led to the balcony. He made her saddle on his stretched legs.
It was decided. Today was sorted. She knew what she had agreed on before getting in the cab with him.
"You're drunk. I wouldn't fuck you tonight." His voice declared the certainty of his unfaltering decision.
What?! "Okay." Disappointed. She could only say that before he claimed her mouth.
His lips painted her with the hues of blues and grays, maybe the red of her own let the feminity speak.
Gentle yet arousing, fierce yet passionate.
Her hands brushed along his nape, fingers clutched his thick dark hair. And in a few moments, her tipsy head could feel her breasts heaved and free. She gasped in his mouth.
"Um..how did you.." She struggled between the kisses finding it very difficult to stop kissing him.
"Did you just unhooked my bra?" How could he do that with one hand? Wasn't the other fondling her face?
He didn't answer, didn't smile...just stared straight into her eyes. His eyes are artistic and complement his hair. I like your eyes.
"How many women have you been with?" Her first mistake.
"Seventeen."
S-e-v-e-n-t-e-e-n?! "So I'm the eighteenth one. Didn't think the number would be of two digits. Good." A hint of jealousy.
"No. You're the first."
"Either you're poor in maths or you think me to be a fool." Aren't you a one?
"You're The one." He insisted.
She shrugged. Too much talking.
"Sorry I am not a good kisser." Are you kidding me? Other than my heartbeats, my hormones are willing to vouch for the truth.
Her lips couldn't bear the torture of being apart from his.The tongue swept along the jawline, crushed up to his ear, the teeth sinking on the soft lobe. He turned to bite on her neck. Don't leave any marks.
His hands were by them too busy pulling up her top, siding the soft fabric of the bra, exposing the breasts at his mercy. And they were too begging for his attention.
His sudden claim of one of her breasts. His mouth was warm, his tongue swirling along a nipple, his teeth lightly tugged it. Yes, the pleasing meter is rising.
Her hands fidgeted before finally managing to unzip his pants. I could feel him in my hands. The urge building, the intimacy growing.
Where were you all these years? Second Mistake.
"Let me taste you..."
That night He was a perfect gentleman.
"Help me...will you?"
As he helped her with the clasp of the bra, her eyes fell upon the book-shelf. "What books are those?"
"Take a look yourself." She rose up from the floor and advanced towards it. She had gone through the title and publication date of each book that night.
"This shelf seems incomplete, And not because it contains only a few books. It lacks the most important one."
Now the time had come for its New year gift.
She placed the set she had got for him on the middle shelf. She chose this time of the day for she no longer withhold strength to face him without breaking down in front of him. And her other persona wouldn't let that happen. So, she came in while he was at work and let the note do the rest from in between the pages of the favourite book of the set.
"Among the best classics of all time...I am letting my "Harry Potter" be yours. I no longer have the right to wish you well, at least I pray you will look after these.
~Godhuli: A name that you once gave me, a name I am letting you have."
