He first met her at a party conducted by their mutual friend in Bangalore. She was 23 and he was 27 then. They hit it off well by offering each other a drink. Well, first he did. He went up to her because he thought she was pretty (and hopefully smart too?) and adored her tresses. He wasn’t exactly great-looking in the conventional sense – he was what you call, an average bloke with a decent build. She, although not exactly turned on by the “Can I get you a drink?” gesture, warmed up to him in a matter of minutes because she found him interesting to talk to.
They laughed over the terrible online dates they’d both had; she even showed him some of the creepy messages that guys sent to her Facebook and Instagram accounts, and he talked in length about how his travels, relationships, and work had brought about a change in him over the last decade. He wasn’t much of a phone-guy (in the sense, barely called/texted people) and did not bother about things like pictures or social media validation. In short, he was an extrovert-turned-introvert. “So what made you come up to me then?” “I don’t exactly know. You’re the first stranger I’m trying to have a conversation with at this party.”
They shared headphones and listened to a few tracks on his phone. They talked about books, films, art, and the perversions of the human mind. She noticed the sparkle in his eyes. She could make out that he was exhausted from everything that was going on and was in fact, being honest about it. She was quick to exchange numbers with him. The night ended with him dropping her at her place followed by a nice, warm hug. As she walked up the stairs to her apartment, she was smiling. As he revved up the engine, so was he.
They met again later that weekend, this time just them. She was wearing something fancier (and skimpier) compared to what she wore at the party where they’d met. He too had made an effort to look presentable. He had trimmed his beard to make it a stubble and also sported a nice jacket and (reasonably) new shoes. They started off with beers, quickly moved onto shots, and pretty soon, were quite high. There were times where they did not even talk for minutes at a stretch, just staring into each other’s eyes and trying to decipher what the minds were cooking up. He asked her if she’d like to shake a leg with him. The noisy crowd and the electronic dance music in the background drowned out whatever he tried telling her while they were dancing. She was starting to find his hands on her waist utterly comfortable.
Was he THE ONE? She wasn’t sure. “Screw it! He is, for the moment“, she thought. She looked up at him, slowly took his hands and placed them on her butt cheeks. He was, for a second, overwhelmed and tried to move them back up. But she said, “No, let them be.” There were people watching them get intimate. But she was nonchalantly dancing like there was no tomorrow. They moved to one of the darker corners of the discotheque and proceeded to kiss. Her kisses were soft and intermittent. He wanted more. He stuck his tongue out in an attempt to taste hers. She was not sure of kissing with tongues on the second date, but the alcohol in her was telling her to. Eventually, she gave in. It was sensuous and they both seemed to relish every bit of it!
They met up again the following day. This time, sober as a judge. While the physical intimacy was intensifying on its own (his hands on her thighs, she randomly hopping onto his lap, and so on), they spent a good part of this coffee date trying to understand each other more as individuals than as sexual interests. That’s when he asked her if she remembers what he said while they were dancing last night. Owing to the hubbub, she hadn’t really paid attention to what he was saying. She said “Uh yeah! I guess. Why do you ask?” “Because if you did, you probably would have had second thoughts about getting close to me last night.”
“What? Why is that?” “So I’m guessing you didn’t. Well, I’m not exactly from around here. I was just paying Ivan (their common friend) a visit from the States since he’s getting married this year. I’m flying to Dubai tomorrow and from there to the States in a week. Not sure when I’m going to be back“. Her smile, all of a sudden, lost its curvy edges. She, for a second, realized that through all of their conversations so far, had never bothered to find out what he did for a living. They’d only discussed their experiences, personal interests, and flaws. It was enriching to the point that it didn’t matter to her what kind of work he did or what background he was from. “I’m actually a wedding planner“, he said with a smile. She tried smiling back but couldn’t. He noticed that she was trying hard to keep a straight face so he abruptly lifted her up in his arms and walked all the way back to his car.
She wasn’t exactly expecting this but it delighted her in ways she could not imagine. He took her back to his apartment. “We’re here“, he said as he held her arms on the way to the elevator. She knew she was going to lose him but she didn’t want to. In the spur of the moment, she couldn’t stop herself from pressing her lips hard against his. The watchman noticed it and let out a sly smile. Once on the elevator, he tried bringing his lips close to hers again but it stopped at one of the floors on the way up and a middle-aged woman (with a bucketful of washed clothes in each hand) appeared out of the blue and stood between them. They couldn’t control their smiles (or their venereal desires) as the elevator halted on the seventh floor. She walked out first followed by him. But he quickly overtook her and pointed his fingers at the apartment on the corner. He unlocked the door, let her walk in first, and as she did, slammed the door shut and proceeded to hug her from behind. He brushed aside some of her hair and gently kissed her on the back of her neck. She was sexually aroused by the move and instantly pressed her butt against his crotch, gyrating for a little while.
She turned around and kissed him hard again. His hands went for the zipper on the backside of her top. In no time they were naked and teasing each other. She bent over the bedside table signalling him to give it to her from behind. He pushed her onto the bed and moved into a 69 position. He drew circles and eights with his tongue on her shaved pussy while she shoved his dick inside her mouth and blew it. A few moments later, they went on to fuck. Not once, not twice, but three times in a couple of hours that followed.
Lying next to each other with a not-so-guilty smile on their faces, they tried to pretend that the moment was not going to end. She was his sixth woman in bed, he was her fourth. She, for as long as the act lasted, felt like she really knew the man she was doing it with. There was a certain sense of comfort in the proceedings – neither had tried to dominate or act like they were not into it completely. It was consensual in the truest sense of the word! And she was a happy woman, although briefly. She only wished she knew this guy longer and maybe, just maybe, he was indeed a keeper! But, as all good things come to an end, this short-lived bond was drawing to a close. If only, if only it wasn’t some inconsequential fling (which it was, sigh!), she pondered. “Do you think we’ll ever see each other again?” “Do you think we should?” “Well, let’s not stay in touch. Knowing you are not around and not getting to see you constantly on social media will probably drive these thoughts away.” But did that work?
Four years later, they met again when she flew to the States for work. She finished her assigned tasks and decided to spend an extra couple of days to catch up with the man she had once desired and never really got hold of. She got to their meeting point (a cafe) first, found a cosy corner, sat down and ordered for a latte. As she waited, she opened his Instagram page and glanced at some of his recent pictures. His beard had grown back and he looked chubbier than before. He was metamorphosing into the quintessential workaholic 30-year old. There were barely any women in the pictures though (just a few from work maybe?). “Not-a-phone-guy“, she remembered. She heard a familiar “hey!” from the other end of the cafe. She turned around to see him flashing the same million-watt smile that he did the first time they’d started talking. //As he walked towards the table she was seated at, he took a stroll down memory lane and their tender moments played in the background, like in a movie. So much had changed for him. Things were never the same.//
Little did he know that a lot had changed for her too. Once the pleasantry-exchange was done with, he just couldn’t stop himself from asking “So are you seeing someone?” to which she replied, “I’m married now and I have a kid.” “Whoa“, he exclaimed. She unlocked her phone and showed him her daughter’s picture. “She’s adorable.” “What about you?” “Nope. Still riding the single-wagon“, he said as he winked. “..and happy?” “..and happy!” They both chuckled. “Still a wedding planner?” “Yep!” and they both guffawed again. //She knew he was lying but she did not want to spoil that fleeting moment.//