time we met was at a grungy bar for drinks and dancing. Taking frequent turns to buy rounds of beer on a humid night, we ended up having a quickie in the women’s bathroom. The metal latches clanged, basins ran water, flushes gurgled, and people borrowed make-up as we unzipped each other’s pants. Four legs akimbo, thirsty kisses, furious fingers and groans silenced at the top of the throat. To top it all, the pleasure of sex amidst people who lived in homo-oblivion. Despite my drunkenness, thoughts of those kajal-rimmed eyes, black and white ceramic rings and the smell of her perfume found their way into my bed the night after our bar-bathroom sex. The gentle flicks of her thumb along my clit and the pendulous folds of her clit made me want unabashedly naked sex with her. To taste and see what I’d been touching.
Today, she didn’t evince any sexual interest in me, despite my attempts at dress-up. The way she sprawled on my sofa, nonchalant and somewhat distant, made me so hot for her. In the privacy of my typically-Bombay one-room studio, I envisioned a finger running along the ‘V’ of my neckline. Or her leaning over the kitchen counter to give me a kiss. I pulled out my best bartender shake and hoped she would drink me in with those arresting eyes, but she was lost in her own thoughts. Her ample view of my breasts had only resulted in a blank look, forget the grasp, grope, squeeze and pull I was craving for. Her moist lips were barely responding to my conversation, forget sexual overtures. But my need for her body, her touch, our sex was fuelling a pushy and overt seduction as I lay a hand on her thigh soon after I sat down next to her. There was an immediate stiffening in her body followed by an uncomfortable silence in the air.
PERSON 1
I was having difficulty breathing and felt my chest was perceptibly heaving. Her hand sitting there solidly had made my hamstring tense up and it would be very embarrassing to get a cramp now. I wasn’t quite sure what to do with myself, should I move? Stay still? I was probably supposed to do something. Her gaze was unflinching as her index finger traced the seam of my jeans. I couldn’t bear to look down at those well-shaped fingers nor did I have the guts to look up at her face. Snatches of sensation came my way, nails digging into my shoulder as she stifled a moan, her hand sliding smoothly past my briefs – it felt really good. Tonight, those confident fingers and their assured touch were giving me the shivers right down to the soles of my feet.
I felt like resting my hand on top of hers so I could feel those pronounced knuckles sloping up into me. A kickboxing fan, she had balled her hands up and thrown a few fists at her punching bag and I had loved the resounding thwack of her knuckles on canvas. I wondered how those long legs would look as they snapped out in a kick. I could lace my fingers into hers and press into her thighs. Were her fingers apart far enough? Should I push them apart? Would she think that my hand in hers was a romantic gesture? I didn’t want to kill the mood. It was too awkward to place my hand atop hers.
She was close enough for me to reach out and give her a light kiss on the lips. Feeling brave, I hunched forward slightly. She stayed where she was, not moving away nor near. Her hand stayed on my thigh. And, I froze. Now I was stuck, I should have just done it quick instead of building anticipation. It had become one of those awkward moments. After that pause, I couldn’t kiss her briefly and pull back quickly. I knew it would lead to more – kissing, touching, feeling, stoking and stroking.
But I wasn’t ready, it was much too soon, I couldn’t imagine responding to her right now. When I said I needed more ice, she paused wordlessly and got up from the sofa. Watching the vast stride of those long legs – my tall woman fantasy was being fulfilled. Watching as she cracked the ice-tray into my drink – appreciating her from a distance
Today, she didn’t evince any sexual interest in me, despite my attempts at dress-up. The way she sprawled on my sofa, nonchalant and somewhat distant, made me so hot for her. In the privacy of my typically-Bombay one-room studio, I envisioned a finger running along the ‘V’ of my neckline. Or her leaning over the kitchen counter to give me a kiss. I pulled out my best bartender shake and hoped she would drink me in with those arresting eyes, but she was lost in her own thoughts. Her ample view of my breasts had only resulted in a blank look, forget the grasp, grope, squeeze and pull I was craving for. Her moist lips were barely responding to my conversation, forget sexual overtures. But my need for her body, her touch, our sex was fuelling a pushy and overt seduction as I lay a hand on her thigh soon after I sat down next to her. There was an immediate stiffening in her body followed by an uncomfortable silence in the air.
PERSON 1
I was having difficulty breathing and felt my chest was perceptibly heaving. Her hand sitting there solidly had made my hamstring tense up and it would be very embarrassing to get a cramp now. I wasn’t quite sure what to do with myself, should I move? Stay still? I was probably supposed to do something. Her gaze was unflinching as her index finger traced the seam of my jeans. I couldn’t bear to look down at those well-shaped fingers nor did I have the guts to look up at her face. Snatches of sensation came my way, nails digging into my shoulder as she stifled a moan, her hand sliding smoothly past my briefs – it felt really good. Tonight, those confident fingers and their assured touch were giving me the shivers right down to the soles of my feet.
I felt like resting my hand on top of hers so I could feel those pronounced knuckles sloping up into me. A kickboxing fan, she had balled her hands up and thrown a few fists at her punching bag and I had loved the resounding thwack of her knuckles on canvas. I wondered how those long legs would look as they snapped out in a kick. I could lace my fingers into hers and press into her thighs. Were her fingers apart far enough? Should I push them apart? Would she think that my hand in hers was a romantic gesture? I didn’t want to kill the mood. It was too awkward to place my hand atop hers.
She was close enough for me to reach out and give her a light kiss on the lips. Feeling brave, I hunched forward slightly. She stayed where she was, not moving away nor near. Her hand stayed on my thigh. And, I froze. Now I was stuck, I should have just done it quick instead of building anticipation. It had become one of those awkward moments. After that pause, I couldn’t kiss her briefly and pull back quickly. I knew it would lead to more – kissing, touching, feeling, stoking and stroking.
But I wasn’t ready, it was much too soon, I couldn’t imagine responding to her right now. When I said I needed more ice, she paused wordlessly and got up from the sofa. Watching the vast stride of those long legs – my tall woman fantasy was being fulfilled. Watching as she cracked the ice-tray into my drink – appreciating her from a distance
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