Why do we do the things we do?
Appearing thoughtful, I will say that we have nothing better to do, that we are the stray fingers that keep on picking one string or another till we find our rhythm in life. Prod me more, I will tell you the biggest secret of life: serotonin won't let you commit suicide, and dopamine gives you something to live for.
I just had my lunch on that hot monday afternoon. Up until a month ago, I used to go sleep in company's library after the lunch, sweetly dozing off company's money; not anymore. A group of loud middle-aged fools had conquered the library for their tea break, leaving me lurching for another way to kill time in office. So I took to wandering outside company's premises after my lunch breaks. Most walks were uneventful. Some of the days, I would discover pig carcasses, first by the smell, then by the look of rotting flesh. The sight always attracted me; even the smell that I couldn't bear for more than a minute, was something I looked forward to. Another time, I had seen 4 donkeys fighting. Yes! four. There was no particular enmity, no she-donkey around. Yet the four donkeys would muster all the speed their tied legs allowed them, and collide with each other head first. Sometimes they would bite each other's neck. I think heat makes animals behave in a funny way.
But that Monday afternoon, there were no pigs; no donkeys either. I was on my third round (I walk between two poles some 50 metres apart), when I saw the lady in black. She came out of the 'Wizcraft' building, a skinny figure, pale as a full moon, arms crossed, stern expression. Had I been closer, I would have seen that she was trembling. The pole appeared, and I turned around for my next round, oblivious of the direction she was heading for, nor caring. Next pole came, and I turned around, she was sitting midway to the two poles, as I walked towards her, our eyes met, she smiled. About what, I don't know. Perhaps I smiled back. I am not too sure. I thought of saying something to her, but no words came to my mind as I walked past her. I did become conscious of my walk although; my stooped shoulders backed up, my chest puffed out, and the hump in my neck straighterned as I clasped my hands behind my back. Twenty metres ahead mighty pole reappeared, and I turned back. This time she was looking away from me.
"Isn't it too hot to wear all black?" I said when I reached near her. She was wearing black trousers, and a black sweater, that too in April.
This was the first time I had accosted a girl, or atleast accosted without any justifiable reason. Remind me, why do we do the things we do? Because those are the best things to be done in those circumstances.
"It was too cold inside." She said with a placid smile on her thin lips, a kind of smile that can turn into frown effortlessly.
"And I wanted my daily fix of vitamin D too, it's good for your skin." She added.
"You know, it keeps dandruff away too." I blurted a fact I had learnt some time ago, without realizing that it is kind of dumb to share your hair problems with people you have met barely 10 seconds ago.
Up close, her skin was not just pale, it was transluscent. I had my eyes fixed on her feet, so full of veins; her deep red nail-paint complementing her white skin.
"You work around here?" I asked.
"Yes, in wizcraft, as curriculum designer."
I nodded.
"What about you?" She asked after a brief pause, a brief pause that was long enough to breed second thoughts about starting this conversation.
"Yes, I am the IT Security guy with Ranbaxy," I told a half lie. The truth was that for the past three months, I was just a token presence in the company. It made no difference even if I came to company or not. But I had to come; manga loaded faster on company's internet connection.
"I have no idea what that means." She said.
"That makes two of us." I thought. Funny as it might have sounded, I didn't want to appear a lazy bum in front of her.
"I keep the company free from viruses and spams." I boasted.
"Hmmmm." She nodded, her eyes betraying some doubts, perhaps pondering if a skinny fuck like me was really cut out for that task.
"What does your company do?" I asked, genuinely curious, since this company had one of the best logos I had seen, but I never knew what the company was upto.
"It is an event management company. We help companies enhance their brand value through creative content and social media."
Sensing that I was not impressed, she added that her company supplied content to Kingdom of dreams, refeerring to an odd theatre in Gurgoan, that spent too much on advertisements.
This time it was my turn to look skeptical. I am generally weary of things that have social/media/events in them; they conjure an image of 'Consume us or die' in front of me.
"Have you been to Kingdom of dreams?" She asked.
"Nope."
"You should, they have great food, nautanki is even better" She said.
Coming from her lips, nautanki seemed to be an expletive, in a good way; like it does when uttered by seemingly innocent girl.
"O.K., I will, when I get a chance." I lied.
The banter continued back and forth, I came to know that she came back to India just a year back, was a Masters in Psychology from Stanford, a fact that should have made her a bit aloof (the Psychologist part, the way they need to distance themselves from their patients), but was exactly opposite. That made me a bit leary about her credentials as a psychologist, those seemed to be more ornamental than professional now.
Temperature was soaring now. I didn't know about her, but I had definitely topped up my Vitamin D reserve for a week.
Sensing my uneasiness, she suggested that we should go and sit somewhere else.
"Where?" I asked.
Let's go to my car.
We went.
Parked between two unattended Ranbaxy buses, right under a Neem tree, was a blue Nissan Sunny. She wasn't lying when she said her family had some serious money. The doors unlocked as she pressed a button on her car key. We took our respective seats; she behind the wheel, I beside her. She adjusted her seat to give herself more legspace. The car was sitting in shade, and there was a reflective sheet on the windshield; but the interiors were still hot. She turned on the ignition and switched on the A.C. With the ignition on the stereo system started thumping too; Sonic Youth's 'Superstar' echoed from the speakers. By the time it had ended, she had already reclined her seat, and lit a cigarette.
"Mind if I smoke?" She enquired.
"Not a bit." I said.
After a pause, Beck's 'Lost Cause' started playing. I upped the volume a bit.
"You seem to have a thing for sad songs." I asked, while helping myself with some water from the cupholder in her car.
"Yes, they remind me of the fences I should have mended long ago."
"And are now too rusted even to touch." She added wryly.
Oh! So she was a past baggage girl, a depleting tribe these days.
"You know what I miss the most about my days in the US?"
Privacy, I thought.
"The ocean."
"The ocean was always freezing. And huge. But on some days, when I had enough rum in my bloodstream. I wouldn't give a damn, I would step right into it. The first wave would erase my past. Next one, my future. There was just present; and it stretched as far as the horizon of the ocean. Swimming some hundred metres and back would last more than eternity. In that eternity, my extermities would start to numb, my heart would gasp for air. Every wave would feel like a punch in the ribs. Taking out more air than I could possibly inhale."
She said while puffing out rings of smoke.
"But I would feel invincible. No, not invincible, immortal." The moist gleam in her eyes, as she looked at me spoke of the happier times in her life. The ones she would be reminiscing about on her deathbed.
"I have got a photograph on my cellphone, let me show you. This is one of my favourite shots of the ocean." She said, as she opened the window, and got rid of the cigarette.
The deluge of memories had made her hands a bit shaky. Her phone dropped on the floor, under her car seat, as soon as she took it out.
"Can you pick it up please? I am not supposed to bend, I have got a bad back." She requested.
"Sure."
I bent towards her, my hands were groping on the floor. It was an awkward position. My lips were almost touching her thighs, her legs were flanking my groping arm and my eyes were at the level of her navel.
In a swift movement, her legs had trapped my scouting arm, and her hands pressed my head into the soft flesh of her belly, almost smothering me.
"Ocean was not the only thing I miss, I also miss someone, who was all ears to my bullshit."
Why do we do the things we do?
Because we are junkies, living from one dopamine fix to next.
As the saxophone melody of 'The road to the west' filled the car, her hands started ruffling my hair. She brought her lips to my neck, and licked. Sensing my calmness, she loosened her grip. I stayed put, digging my teeth into her flesh.
"Hmm. A biter, aren't you."
As I raised my head, our eyes met. The gleam in her eye was gone; replaced by something cold and clinical.
Didn't matter.
As soon as our lips met, I pressed the recliner of her seat, and adjusted my left knee that was digging in the gearbox.
She broke the kiss, and my hug.
"I am going to let you fuck me. Just one rule. Don't come on seatcover or on floor. Grab some tissues from the dashboard." She said while making way to the back seat. The windows were opaque enough to let us be carefree.
I obeyed. Grabbed two tissues from the dashboard, and stuffed them in my back pocket.
She got rid of her trousers. And panties. Quick as a cat.
"Come on quickly, I don't have much time. I need to get back to office soon." She reprimanded me.
I made way to the backseat from reclined driver's seat, and kissed her once more before she could remind me of our offices. They could burn in hell for all I cared.
I tried to undo her pullover, but she stopped me.
"Do whatever you want with my titts, but leave the clothes on." Even with the opacity of the windows, she didn't want to take any chances. If the troube came, she wanted to get her shit together as soon as possible.
I nodded. My left hand that held her bare waist, moved under her top and fondled her left tit. My face was dug in her right tit. I wanted to taste her flesh, but all I got was the taste of scented fabric. My right hand, that was pivotted under her lower back, made its way down, and pressed her cunt. She squirmed on the seat, tightening her leg hold on my hand. It felt good to be in control for a change. As my fingers went deeper, her hands pressed my upper back tightly.
"I like men with muscular backs." She commented.
"And I like horny girls." I thought but didn't bother to return the compliment.
On the stereo, the track switched to Led Zeppelin's 'Going to California.'
Her legs were wrapped around my hips, my bulge was grinding into her car seat. I wanted to get rid of my pants, but waited. As my legs found the traction of the car door, my bulge pressed deeper into the seat. I bit her right nipple through the fabric. A small moan escaped her.
"No biting." She said without much conviction in her voice.
Still I obeyed and let it go, but my fingers squeezed her left tit with vengance.
I made another attempt to remove her top. I thought that she would be too engrossed to care now, but she evaded my attempts even with her eyes closed.
Disappointed, I thought to make the best of what was available and proceeded downwards.
Down below, she was hairless to the point that I suspected that she had plucked each hair out. I started from her inner thighs, showering kisses so wet that my spit trickled down to her cunt even before I began licking her there. She was neither disgusted, nor she objected. Her legs tightened around my head like a vise grip, feet pointed till they were able to hook the door handle near the roof. Her back, that she claimed to be in a bad shape arched to accomodate as much of my tongue as possible. Such was the arch in her back, that I didn't even need to support her with my hands.
So what do idle hands do? Devil's work ofcourse.
They made their way back inside her top and started playing with her titts.
After a while, my tongue was tired of being stretched to its maximum length. I quit the tongue twirl, and tapped on her thigh to let go of my head. She did, commenting that my throat and face was all red, and that I should have told her if the grip was too tight.
"If I were dying, you would have known." I replied, while undoing my trousers.
Just before I was going to place them on the front seat, she took the tissues out from the back pocket.
"I will hold these for you. Please don't spoil my car." She smiled mischieviously. I too laughed, I couldn't help it. Even in a situation like this, she was aware of the propriety. The rules were sacred to her.
My first push was a bit too strong. Next one too. She banged her head on the door twice.
"Ever heard of the word 'Rhythm' asshole?" She asked, truly annoyed.
"Yes, but I am not too good at it." I conceded.
"Well, try then." She ordered.
As a precaution, I placed my right hand behind her head to cushion it, and mellowed my strokes down. My left hand tried its luck at her ass-hole.
"Don't touch me there, I feel disgusted." She yelled. I drew my hand back quickly and apologized.
"I think I should come on top, or else I will go to sleep." She said, the last part intentionally louder.
Hole's 'Gold dust woman' mocked me on her stereo.
I had to admit that she was much better than me when on top. Her left leg was partly bent on car's floor, her right one squatted beside my waist. I held her from her waist and tried to resonate with her humps, not even bothering to squeeze the titts now. To tell the truth, it was she who was doing most work. I was relaxed, my eyes were drooping, mind progressing to a zen like state where everything ceases to matter except the knot in your dick. She too was apparently reaching the same state. She bent down towards me, her hands swayed my head between her breasts, her teeth dug into my head trying hard not to give voice to her moans. Harder and harder. I hugged her tightly, my head pressing even further into her chest. The knot in my dick was too big to hold now. I thought I should warn her, but being smothered was way too pleasent. I couldn't control now and emptied myself inside her. The stickiness between her legs had made her strokes even more fluid. She went on for another minute before her teeth eased pressure on my head.
With erratic breath and a wry smile she declared "Men are such assholes when it comes to self control."
Then while cleaning herself, added an afterthought, "Atleast you didn't mess my car up."
I too, dressed myself up. It was time to leave. We both agreed that we were reasonably presentable for office standards, and most of the tell-tale signs were already taken care of.
She would come out of the car some 5 minutes after me. I thought I should say something, some meaningful parting words. All I uttered was the standard, "It was nice to meet you."
She looked at me as if I had just slapped her.
Seeing the expression on her face, I chuckled. She too took the comment tongue in cheek, patted my back, and declared 'Same here.'
Closing the door of her car, I could hear 'Somebody I used to know' playing on her stereo. We both knew that this was the last time we were to see each other, and we both looked away. I made my way back to office, where no one even knew I was gone for so long.
I still visited my walking spot same as before, with a faint glimmer that she might turn up, yet convincing myself that it would be best if she didn't. A junkie, who's addicted to a drug loses independence first and self-respect later. The one who's addicted to the 'high' has it easy. He doesn't bow his head to same junk everytime. So go away lady in black, hope you find your ocean again. Or an anchor. As for me, dopamine fixes aren't hard to come by, infact there's one waiting for me on my laptop right now....
Appearing thoughtful, I will say that we have nothing better to do, that we are the stray fingers that keep on picking one string or another till we find our rhythm in life. Prod me more, I will tell you the biggest secret of life: serotonin won't let you commit suicide, and dopamine gives you something to live for.
I just had my lunch on that hot monday afternoon. Up until a month ago, I used to go sleep in company's library after the lunch, sweetly dozing off company's money; not anymore. A group of loud middle-aged fools had conquered the library for their tea break, leaving me lurching for another way to kill time in office. So I took to wandering outside company's premises after my lunch breaks. Most walks were uneventful. Some of the days, I would discover pig carcasses, first by the smell, then by the look of rotting flesh. The sight always attracted me; even the smell that I couldn't bear for more than a minute, was something I looked forward to. Another time, I had seen 4 donkeys fighting. Yes! four. There was no particular enmity, no she-donkey around. Yet the four donkeys would muster all the speed their tied legs allowed them, and collide with each other head first. Sometimes they would bite each other's neck. I think heat makes animals behave in a funny way.
But that Monday afternoon, there were no pigs; no donkeys either. I was on my third round (I walk between two poles some 50 metres apart), when I saw the lady in black. She came out of the 'Wizcraft' building, a skinny figure, pale as a full moon, arms crossed, stern expression. Had I been closer, I would have seen that she was trembling. The pole appeared, and I turned around for my next round, oblivious of the direction she was heading for, nor caring. Next pole came, and I turned around, she was sitting midway to the two poles, as I walked towards her, our eyes met, she smiled. About what, I don't know. Perhaps I smiled back. I am not too sure. I thought of saying something to her, but no words came to my mind as I walked past her. I did become conscious of my walk although; my stooped shoulders backed up, my chest puffed out, and the hump in my neck straighterned as I clasped my hands behind my back. Twenty metres ahead mighty pole reappeared, and I turned back. This time she was looking away from me.
"Isn't it too hot to wear all black?" I said when I reached near her. She was wearing black trousers, and a black sweater, that too in April.
This was the first time I had accosted a girl, or atleast accosted without any justifiable reason. Remind me, why do we do the things we do? Because those are the best things to be done in those circumstances.
"It was too cold inside." She said with a placid smile on her thin lips, a kind of smile that can turn into frown effortlessly.
"And I wanted my daily fix of vitamin D too, it's good for your skin." She added.
"You know, it keeps dandruff away too." I blurted a fact I had learnt some time ago, without realizing that it is kind of dumb to share your hair problems with people you have met barely 10 seconds ago.
Up close, her skin was not just pale, it was transluscent. I had my eyes fixed on her feet, so full of veins; her deep red nail-paint complementing her white skin.
"You work around here?" I asked.
"Yes, in wizcraft, as curriculum designer."
I nodded.
"What about you?" She asked after a brief pause, a brief pause that was long enough to breed second thoughts about starting this conversation.
"Yes, I am the IT Security guy with Ranbaxy," I told a half lie. The truth was that for the past three months, I was just a token presence in the company. It made no difference even if I came to company or not. But I had to come; manga loaded faster on company's internet connection.
"I have no idea what that means." She said.
"That makes two of us." I thought. Funny as it might have sounded, I didn't want to appear a lazy bum in front of her.
"I keep the company free from viruses and spams." I boasted.
"Hmmmm." She nodded, her eyes betraying some doubts, perhaps pondering if a skinny fuck like me was really cut out for that task.
"What does your company do?" I asked, genuinely curious, since this company had one of the best logos I had seen, but I never knew what the company was upto.
"It is an event management company. We help companies enhance their brand value through creative content and social media."
Sensing that I was not impressed, she added that her company supplied content to Kingdom of dreams, refeerring to an odd theatre in Gurgoan, that spent too much on advertisements.
This time it was my turn to look skeptical. I am generally weary of things that have social/media/events in them; they conjure an image of 'Consume us or die' in front of me.
"Have you been to Kingdom of dreams?" She asked.
"Nope."
"You should, they have great food, nautanki is even better" She said.
Coming from her lips, nautanki seemed to be an expletive, in a good way; like it does when uttered by seemingly innocent girl.
"O.K., I will, when I get a chance." I lied.
The banter continued back and forth, I came to know that she came back to India just a year back, was a Masters in Psychology from Stanford, a fact that should have made her a bit aloof (the Psychologist part, the way they need to distance themselves from their patients), but was exactly opposite. That made me a bit leary about her credentials as a psychologist, those seemed to be more ornamental than professional now.
Temperature was soaring now. I didn't know about her, but I had definitely topped up my Vitamin D reserve for a week.
Sensing my uneasiness, she suggested that we should go and sit somewhere else.
"Where?" I asked.
Let's go to my car.
We went.
Parked between two unattended Ranbaxy buses, right under a Neem tree, was a blue Nissan Sunny. She wasn't lying when she said her family had some serious money. The doors unlocked as she pressed a button on her car key. We took our respective seats; she behind the wheel, I beside her. She adjusted her seat to give herself more legspace. The car was sitting in shade, and there was a reflective sheet on the windshield; but the interiors were still hot. She turned on the ignition and switched on the A.C. With the ignition on the stereo system started thumping too; Sonic Youth's 'Superstar' echoed from the speakers. By the time it had ended, she had already reclined her seat, and lit a cigarette.
"Mind if I smoke?" She enquired.
"Not a bit." I said.
After a pause, Beck's 'Lost Cause' started playing. I upped the volume a bit.
"You seem to have a thing for sad songs." I asked, while helping myself with some water from the cupholder in her car.
"Yes, they remind me of the fences I should have mended long ago."
"And are now too rusted even to touch." She added wryly.
Oh! So she was a past baggage girl, a depleting tribe these days.
"You know what I miss the most about my days in the US?"
Privacy, I thought.
"The ocean."
"The ocean was always freezing. And huge. But on some days, when I had enough rum in my bloodstream. I wouldn't give a damn, I would step right into it. The first wave would erase my past. Next one, my future. There was just present; and it stretched as far as the horizon of the ocean. Swimming some hundred metres and back would last more than eternity. In that eternity, my extermities would start to numb, my heart would gasp for air. Every wave would feel like a punch in the ribs. Taking out more air than I could possibly inhale."
She said while puffing out rings of smoke.
"But I would feel invincible. No, not invincible, immortal." The moist gleam in her eyes, as she looked at me spoke of the happier times in her life. The ones she would be reminiscing about on her deathbed.
"I have got a photograph on my cellphone, let me show you. This is one of my favourite shots of the ocean." She said, as she opened the window, and got rid of the cigarette.
The deluge of memories had made her hands a bit shaky. Her phone dropped on the floor, under her car seat, as soon as she took it out.
"Can you pick it up please? I am not supposed to bend, I have got a bad back." She requested.
"Sure."
I bent towards her, my hands were groping on the floor. It was an awkward position. My lips were almost touching her thighs, her legs were flanking my groping arm and my eyes were at the level of her navel.
In a swift movement, her legs had trapped my scouting arm, and her hands pressed my head into the soft flesh of her belly, almost smothering me.
"Ocean was not the only thing I miss, I also miss someone, who was all ears to my bullshit."
Why do we do the things we do?
Because we are junkies, living from one dopamine fix to next.
As the saxophone melody of 'The road to the west' filled the car, her hands started ruffling my hair. She brought her lips to my neck, and licked. Sensing my calmness, she loosened her grip. I stayed put, digging my teeth into her flesh.
"Hmm. A biter, aren't you."
As I raised my head, our eyes met. The gleam in her eye was gone; replaced by something cold and clinical.
Didn't matter.
As soon as our lips met, I pressed the recliner of her seat, and adjusted my left knee that was digging in the gearbox.
She broke the kiss, and my hug.
"I am going to let you fuck me. Just one rule. Don't come on seatcover or on floor. Grab some tissues from the dashboard." She said while making way to the back seat. The windows were opaque enough to let us be carefree.
I obeyed. Grabbed two tissues from the dashboard, and stuffed them in my back pocket.
She got rid of her trousers. And panties. Quick as a cat.
"Come on quickly, I don't have much time. I need to get back to office soon." She reprimanded me.
I made way to the backseat from reclined driver's seat, and kissed her once more before she could remind me of our offices. They could burn in hell for all I cared.
I tried to undo her pullover, but she stopped me.
"Do whatever you want with my titts, but leave the clothes on." Even with the opacity of the windows, she didn't want to take any chances. If the troube came, she wanted to get her shit together as soon as possible.
I nodded. My left hand that held her bare waist, moved under her top and fondled her left tit. My face was dug in her right tit. I wanted to taste her flesh, but all I got was the taste of scented fabric. My right hand, that was pivotted under her lower back, made its way down, and pressed her cunt. She squirmed on the seat, tightening her leg hold on my hand. It felt good to be in control for a change. As my fingers went deeper, her hands pressed my upper back tightly.
"I like men with muscular backs." She commented.
"And I like horny girls." I thought but didn't bother to return the compliment.
On the stereo, the track switched to Led Zeppelin's 'Going to California.'
Her legs were wrapped around my hips, my bulge was grinding into her car seat. I wanted to get rid of my pants, but waited. As my legs found the traction of the car door, my bulge pressed deeper into the seat. I bit her right nipple through the fabric. A small moan escaped her.
"No biting." She said without much conviction in her voice.
Still I obeyed and let it go, but my fingers squeezed her left tit with vengance.
I made another attempt to remove her top. I thought that she would be too engrossed to care now, but she evaded my attempts even with her eyes closed.
Disappointed, I thought to make the best of what was available and proceeded downwards.
Down below, she was hairless to the point that I suspected that she had plucked each hair out. I started from her inner thighs, showering kisses so wet that my spit trickled down to her cunt even before I began licking her there. She was neither disgusted, nor she objected. Her legs tightened around my head like a vise grip, feet pointed till they were able to hook the door handle near the roof. Her back, that she claimed to be in a bad shape arched to accomodate as much of my tongue as possible. Such was the arch in her back, that I didn't even need to support her with my hands.
So what do idle hands do? Devil's work ofcourse.
They made their way back inside her top and started playing with her titts.
After a while, my tongue was tired of being stretched to its maximum length. I quit the tongue twirl, and tapped on her thigh to let go of my head. She did, commenting that my throat and face was all red, and that I should have told her if the grip was too tight.
"If I were dying, you would have known." I replied, while undoing my trousers.
Just before I was going to place them on the front seat, she took the tissues out from the back pocket.
"I will hold these for you. Please don't spoil my car." She smiled mischieviously. I too laughed, I couldn't help it. Even in a situation like this, she was aware of the propriety. The rules were sacred to her.
My first push was a bit too strong. Next one too. She banged her head on the door twice.
"Ever heard of the word 'Rhythm' asshole?" She asked, truly annoyed.
"Yes, but I am not too good at it." I conceded.
"Well, try then." She ordered.
As a precaution, I placed my right hand behind her head to cushion it, and mellowed my strokes down. My left hand tried its luck at her ass-hole.
"Don't touch me there, I feel disgusted." She yelled. I drew my hand back quickly and apologized.
"I think I should come on top, or else I will go to sleep." She said, the last part intentionally louder.
Hole's 'Gold dust woman' mocked me on her stereo.
I had to admit that she was much better than me when on top. Her left leg was partly bent on car's floor, her right one squatted beside my waist. I held her from her waist and tried to resonate with her humps, not even bothering to squeeze the titts now. To tell the truth, it was she who was doing most work. I was relaxed, my eyes were drooping, mind progressing to a zen like state where everything ceases to matter except the knot in your dick. She too was apparently reaching the same state. She bent down towards me, her hands swayed my head between her breasts, her teeth dug into my head trying hard not to give voice to her moans. Harder and harder. I hugged her tightly, my head pressing even further into her chest. The knot in my dick was too big to hold now. I thought I should warn her, but being smothered was way too pleasent. I couldn't control now and emptied myself inside her. The stickiness between her legs had made her strokes even more fluid. She went on for another minute before her teeth eased pressure on my head.
With erratic breath and a wry smile she declared "Men are such assholes when it comes to self control."
Then while cleaning herself, added an afterthought, "Atleast you didn't mess my car up."
I too, dressed myself up. It was time to leave. We both agreed that we were reasonably presentable for office standards, and most of the tell-tale signs were already taken care of.
She would come out of the car some 5 minutes after me. I thought I should say something, some meaningful parting words. All I uttered was the standard, "It was nice to meet you."
She looked at me as if I had just slapped her.
Seeing the expression on her face, I chuckled. She too took the comment tongue in cheek, patted my back, and declared 'Same here.'
Closing the door of her car, I could hear 'Somebody I used to know' playing on her stereo. We both knew that this was the last time we were to see each other, and we both looked away. I made my way back to office, where no one even knew I was gone for so long.
I still visited my walking spot same as before, with a faint glimmer that she might turn up, yet convincing myself that it would be best if she didn't. A junkie, who's addicted to a drug loses independence first and self-respect later. The one who's addicted to the 'high' has it easy. He doesn't bow his head to same junk everytime. So go away lady in black, hope you find your ocean again. Or an anchor. As for me, dopamine fixes aren't hard to come by, infact there's one waiting for me on my laptop right now....
2 comments:
seems like real
I missed a lot of these blogs.. Is this real? If so, I am happy for you :)
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