Storm In The City.

She stood there, leaning against the door that led to the room with a single bed, and a heap of clothes on the floor, listening to the sound of a leaking tap, wearing nothing but her sky high black peep toes and a stud in her belly button, sipping the Luke warm drink that tasted bitter and orangy.  She swirled her glass a bit, the amber liquid made some lazy waves, resembling the ripples of warmth between her legs, she pressed her thighs tight against each other, her skin felt strange to itself. She desperately needed a smoke and some fresh air.

The place smelt of lust, sweat and fruit. A part of her ached to go to bed with him again, and sleep, she closed her eyes tightly to resist the urge, but all she could see were flashing images, of limbs and legs, entwined and entangled. She ran her long fingers through her just fucked hair, the feeling of soft kisses still lingering on her neck, her nipples were standing confused, just like her, lips raw, one or two little grazes on her left shoulder, her legs cramping, knees aching, and her belly quivering. Shivers ran through her spine as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, the light was so dim she could barely recognize herself, a sly smile lit up her face, her mascara stained dark brown eyes shimmered.

She steadied herself and took a step towards him, who was already dressed and busy checking his e mails on his blackberry, an I pad in his lap, he liked a few random picture and statuses on Facebook before reminding her that she should get dressed as it is already the time for power outage and he needs to get some sleep. She picked up her stuff and slipped it on, tried to make small talk but words choked her throat, she finished her drink in one large gulp and they left.

They were both quite, when he gave her a ride back, the night was dark and the roads, nearly empty. Few check posts and stray dogs. It was so quiet she could actually hear a heart beat, wasn’t sure it was his or hers, wasn’t sure she had any heart left. He turned on the music player and fixed his gaze on the road again before patting her hand and asking, Are you Ok, baby?…….  Baby? This was the first time some one called her baby, she wanted to laugh, the same laugh that scared him. I’m fine, she replied the same lie, with a fake smile, probably less fake than her orgasm. The haunting voice of Lana Del Ray broke the heavy silence.

All my heart, it breaks every step that I take
But I’m hoping that the gates,
They’ll tell me that you’re mine
Walking through the city streets
Is it by mistake or design?
I feel so alone on a Friday night
Can you make it feel like home, if I tell you you’re mine
It’s like I told you honey

Don’t make me sad, don’t make me cry………….

Her thoughts started to wander, in the lonely street of dreams, the echoes of silence are endless, she could taste salt on her tongue, tears are salty, she thought, so were the beads of sweat on his forehead. And she thought about him, he felt so close, yet so distant, completely lost in his parallel universe. He was lost when he made love to her.

Made Love?? She was still having hard time calling it a screw, which it actually was. Just a call of flesh, no emotions, no passion, two bodies using each other as the scratch post of their own unfulfilled yearnings. He was tender, gentle, considerate, but messed up, a total and utter disaster.

The crinkled corners of his liquid chocolate caramel eyes looked moist, He had soft hair, his hands were firmly gripping the steering wheel, hands that held her, touched her, caressed her, un clasped her bra hook, in one fluid move and peeled off her jeans and thong in a knowing all manner, hands that bared her body but made no attempt to strip her soul, She was grateful for that. He was hiding a lot, but she wasn’t in a mood of sharing her Self.

The car suddenly came to a halt, it was time to say good bye, they looked at each other in the eye and for the first time maintained proper eye contact, two hollow, empty, vacant people staring at each other, no words spoken, no promises made, no questions asked. She moved forward and hugged him, he hugged her back and held her………..Close.

It started to rain, ……

Thank you, he whispered ………….. Welcome, She replied, before opening the door and getting out.

He drove away, and she never looked back.

That was one stormy night in the capital city.



29th November, 2013



15 thoughts on “Storm In The City.

  1. “.. a fake smile, probably less fake than her orgasm…”, so captures the helplessness of her life against the odds she is fighting, and her desire to bring completeness n pleasure to her life!


  2. Hmm sometime I think life or a situation, if we talk particularly, only seems complicated n confused for “we think” or just “tend to think” if we let it pass it goes as a puff… U know what I mean, as physical need always surpasses the soul…Lolz


    • Spiritual is overrated and underrated at the same time….
      So is Physical…
      The most spiritual of experiences maybe triggered from something Physical…
      Have you heard of a story of a Playboy who fell in Love with a Hooker…
      Or the Trophy wife who fell for a Gigolo…
      and and lets not make your blog more controversial


  3. Everything is overrated, Love, trust, Faith, fidelity, virtues, nothing lasts, nothing pays off, in the end, it’s just a barren, lonely soul, tired, troubled, tormented, telling the Truth……. That no one wants to hear……….

    Nothing numbs the pain……


  4. Every word you have written here is right…every bit of it. I felt like that all happened to me, circumstances may be different but pain is the same, No ? Awesome…wonderful..I have no words.


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