Dear hot readers,
Hello all, how are you? It has been so long since I posted a story. I must say sincerely, I have been awaiting this moment as much as all of you.
Shall we get started?
It was only days after publishing my previous story that I had an email from a 23-year-old woman who will be “R” from Bangalore, the same city where I reside currently. Anyone familiar with Bangalore will also recognise that the idea of distance is also ambiguous in the city.
She was still on the cyber far shore of Bangalore. But our skyline was the same, so the implication was an elaborate divide constructed upon the planets. R emailed me a kind, sentimental note to express gratitude for the story and to inform me she had adored reading the story. She had also had to inquire if she could speak to me once.
I assented, and good-naturedly, I gave her the clearance to choose the platform she liked most, and the next thing you know, we are communicating over Instagram. R was from the small village to come out for independence. She resided amongst her workmates with roommates. She was most of the time amidst their gossip and laughs.
R would be envious to an extent as they would be spending hours with their boyfriends or on the phone. They bragged about their weekend activities planned out and their memories.
She desired to feel the same excitement and warmth that they seemed to provide so naturally, but the envy was actually out of lust rather than ill will. But R was frequently delayed by her scares. She was petite, flat-chested, and her looks did not conform to the “perfect” type she believed males liked.
She never felt comfortable with the way she appeared. She was unable to have an articulate conversation with the man since her inner scepticism overtook her confidence. But under the outer hardness was an abiding curiosity and an unobtrusive desire to be felt, appreciated, and loved.
All she ever wanted was the opportunity to have the kind of attachment she felt she had been robbed of all her years, full stop. She actually texted that as she had her silent but strong desire. R did not open up to me completely for some weeks.
She first experimented with the waters cautiously, feeling the waters so to speak, and was circumspect in her observations. She was only sure that I wasn’t looking at her for her beauty but for the individual she is. Fears she was too slim, that she was not one kind of stereotype, went away with each passing time.
But what I found behind the demure exterior was one that was sweet, curious, and surprisingly very artistic. All our conversations were colourful and lively as she was artsy and zestful. Slowly, when we became closer, she opened up much better, her ideas, and her particular fantasies.
Despite having had months of very long open chat, she actually suggested getting together face-to-face. We arranged an unobtrusive café for Saturday morning. We vowed to each other to spend the remainder of the weekend together at my flat. It was an air of excitement mixed with nervous thoughts riding through traffic that morning.
I rewound our conversations incessantly in my thoughts and visualised what it would be like actually to encounter her. After entering the café, I looked at R for some time, observing her. Even though she was casually dressed, she had an unstated elegance emanating from her body language.
Her straight, shoulder-length hair enhanced her fragile, deathly white countenance. The slim frames of her eyeglasses gave an impression of assurance and smartness, coupled with an indelible sense of refined elegance.
She also strode with grace and had a slender, almost delicate-looking frame, averaging 4.9 feet in height. The narrowness of the bust, an area she had worried over before, was much relieved. It was one with her body, an organic complement to her form.
I felt the warmth and eagerness of having her there, blushing but smiling graciously, as if all the weeks’ worth of gossip had all been spilt out before me.
The discussion proceeded effortlessly as we sat, aided by humorous chatter and humorous comments, both causing each other to laugh.
R’s restlessness faded off slowly into the rhythm of relaxation. Still, periodically, I caught her technically buttoning her sleeves or flinging her hair behind her, small signs of her residual unease with existence.
Every time, not always. I tend to, but since she was so very cute, I would whisper to her again. Of course, she would blush or give me an eye-roll, but her smile would speak for itself. Added to this was the fact that she had very beautiful lips and a smile.
Her doubt would momentarily appear, but by what I was actually talking, quietly, the doubt was gone until serene confidence re-manifested itself in her eyes. It was our little ritual. We had bruschetta plates, pesto pasta, and a piece of decadent tiramisu. We sipped thick cappuccinos as we conversed for hours.
We were only two people getting to know one another, but totally relaxed. The external world slipped away slowly as we shared stories and belly laughs. We agreed to leave the café when we had finished coffee and dessert, still smiling from our never-ending conversation.
R sat behind me on the cycle with her arms loosely on my shoulders as we cycled up to the flat. She maintained her small buffer instead of cuddling me, but I noticed she was getting more relaxed by the minute.
We went into the living room, with R walking silently. She sat on the sofa bed and looked around the room as though she was attempting to put herself together.
With her hands together, she panted quickly through her mouth, and her breathing was shallow, highlighting the reality that she was most definitely uncomfortable.
R stuttered quietly when we were conversing. She stopped mid-sentence and laughed demurely when she realised she was stuttering. This proved she was nervous and unsure, but there was an innocence to her directness, particularly as she felt she was safe.
Seeing how nervous she was, I went even closer to her and took her by the hands. Cold palms spoke for her nervousness. I squeezed her gently by the wrists, gazed into her eyes, smiled tenderly, and took her into a warm hug.
After momentarily hesitating, R eased up and relaxed slowly. I assured her quietly.
Me: Everything is fine. There is no way you have to worry.
To hear the words of reassurance reduces her breathing. The tension was made to dissipate into relaxation. After pausing, R eased her grip slowly and lay down, her eyes humbly but gently locking with mine.
Untouchable emotions filled the vacant room around us. We both were rock-like motionless; she first broke the silence through the worried smile, the small smile that spoke much.
I leaned a little farther, and the two of us exchanged a gentle, tender kiss, full of promise and release; it was still, uncomplicated. After momentarily breaking our kiss, I pulled her into one that was hard.
We stared deep into each other’s lips this way, arms exploring each other’s heads and shoulders, our fingers getting all knotted up in each other’s hair.
And so ends the first half of this tale. The scepticism, the furtive looks, the unuttered hunger have brought us this far. And this is but the very beginning.
Thanks so much for reading my book! If you found enjoyment within, I’d really like to have you support me by dropping by your preferred review platform. Your reviews function similarly to tips, getting the word out about my work—each one makes an impact!
Feel free to connect with me: Email / Hangouts: [email protected]. Much love, Rahul.