3. f

She continues talking on phone. The warmth of her body glues me to her. I don’t feel like letting her off. Her touch spreads through me. It absorbs me into itself. I melt in its warmth. She jerks me back. I keep on holding her. She continues talking. I unhear what she speaks. It’s her personal matter. She is my personal matter. I gently rub my cheek over the smoothness of her neck. She hits her elbow in my stomach. I bear it. I kiss her gently on her neck instead. I have learnt from great Indian leaders to love in return of hatred. I hear a small sigh. She hits her fist on my hip in return. Her conversation with Harshad on phone goes on uninterrupted. I love Matahari for this. She doesn’t let even the closest confide know whom she is with and doing what when such incidences of seduction occur. I slowly slip my hand down, taking it below her belly. I rub it over her zip. She tries to push me back in vain. I spread my fingers and hold the entire region in my hand, anchoring my fingers at soft notches. I press the area gently. A light moan escapes her mouth. She hits me lamely on my thigh. I unzip her pant and push my hand into the newly formed gap. I feel her body shudder.

I run my fingers over the smooth cloth of her Victoria’s Secret. My finger reaches the upper edge of the Secret. I fondle with it. I touch the softness of her lower belly that descends into her depth. A temptation blooms within me. The temptation to pull it down and reach the depths. To feel the touch of the tender skin at the edge of the depth. To rub my finger softly over it. To caress it with tips of extensors of my palms. To scratch a steady line with my blunt nails. I hear a soft gasp. I pull the elastic edge lower. She disconnects the call and turns around.

I look into her eyes. The hostility in them transfixes me. I keep looking into them with my hand struggling to get out. Within a fraction of the second, her hand lands on my cheek. Everything darkens before me for a moment.

“Stay off fucker!!” She almost shrieks.

I move back. But my hand is stuck in her zipper.

“Pull this shit off my zipper you motherfucking arsehole!”

I drop the book and put my other hand on her mouth. She abuses further in a muffled voice. I desperately attempt to pull my hand out of her zipper.

She manages to free her mouth from my hand.

“You womaniser…”
“Shut up Barkha…you will wake up everybody!!”
“Let them wake up and see what an arsehole you are…”
“What happened?”
“You are asking me what happened?...Don’t you know what happened?”

I have a fair idea of what has happened. But I continue to be ignorant. But I want to hear it from her. Just as a matter of conformation. I jerk my hand to get it off her zipper. It moves in millimeters.

“What?!” I ask.
“Will I have to tell you that too?”
“Yes!”
“Okay…” She attains pseudo calm. “…Tell me…did you enjoy?”
“Enjoy what?”
“Her you fucker!”
“What?...Who?!”
“Her!...Shamita!...was her cunt juicier than mine??” She spit words out.
“Shut up Barkha…what’s got into you?”
“Come on tell me…were her thighs warmer?...”
“Shut the fuck up Barkha!!...”
“Why?...cant handle the truth??”
“What truth??”
“What truth??!!...Sleeping with Shamita you son of a bitch”
“What?!!...who told you this shit?” I know who has. But again I give in to the factor of confession.

“Whoever told me…what you have to do…you had your dick happy na…”
“Whichever fucker told you…is lying…or doesn’t know the truth.”
“Then…what’s the truth?...you took her to a hotel room for taking notes from her…”
“Nope…I took her to meet her brother…”
“To the hill-station?”
“Yes!”
“Do you think I am a fool?”
“I didn’t…but now I think you are…you are outta your mind Barkha…” My hand slips out of her zipper in my final attempt.

“And you are outta yourself you bastard!”
“Alright…If you aren’t listening to what I have to say….you will know the truth at the right time…see you than Barkha!” I say calmly and leave.

She stays dumbfounded by the serenity in my line. I leave there quietly. She stands speechless, dumbstruck by my move.

I exit her compound and walk away with heavy steps. And a stab-punctured heart.

I know who is behind this. He has a due to pay now.

(Contd.)