Warm as wax, he said, laying her. He drank into the nectar from her lips, one hand playing with the curve of her neck, the other traveling over the geographies of her body. While her lips turned raw and delicate, he moved to her throat, tasting the curves of its bone.
His thick hands moved over her breast, teeth crushing its nipples. He wanted her to return and that’s why he wasn’t too rough.
Relishing the inside of her thigh and suffering his tongue into its moistness.
She glanced at the clock. Another fifteen minutes and it would all end. She wondered if he would let her go. Their clothes lay in a heap on the floor, he still in between her thighs. He entered her now allowing the eager welcome to grip him, licking at the bruises he had blazed on smooth skin.
Time over, she tried to push him away but he rode deeper and deeper into her darkness lighting candles that the winds couldn’t blow away. They were one now, his hands around her waist, fingers entwined in her waist band. She lets out a cry and he unsuccessfully bridges a thumb over sore lips trying to stifle those cries.
Later, he watches her dress. The shimmer of fabric dim the sight of clevage.
***
She stood naked in front of a large mirror examining the maroon bruises, coating them with blobs of lacto calamine - the New lacto calamine they advertised on TV.
She has another appointment at eight. She drapes a soft silk sari over a deep burgundy blouse and wears her favorite tear drop earrings.
A name flashes on her mobile. He has reached and is waiting for her.
girl interrupted
woman fulfilled
(c) Rochelle Potkar
* a behind-the-scenes interpretation of Laga chunri mein daag.
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1 comment:
didnt i know where this will go
before we reached the final star
didnt we see through those teardrop
earrings, how near was so far.
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