e was not the right guy for me. He was quite a rich person in all aspects except that he wasn’t having time for me. Or rather, he wasn’t what I wanted.
Then after one year I decide to separate. I was alone till last year when Natasha came. She is a lovely girl of 23.
“Your chai is getting cold, babe” I said.
Natasha peeked out from behind her newspaper.
I sat opposite her in my Sarita Vihar flat, sipping cup of tea.
‘Thank you didi.’ Natasha used the term didi. She is eight years younger than me. She is my mother’s close friend’s daughter. I am working as a software programmer. Natasha, after finishing the collage, came to me for a job. Somehow I arranged a job for her in a call centre.
‘Finish it up, quick. Shopping awaits us!’ I said before she leapt out of the sofa and went to her room.
Behind the newspaper, my thoughts trailed to that day in the multiplex, when we had been watching a English movie .
‘What lips!’ I had exclaimed, when the heroine first appeared on screen.
‘So much like Natasha’
I had glanced sideways at Natasha. Her lips were also so good, almost moist.
How would those lips feel on me?
I had placed my arm around Natasha’s shoulder. Natasha had snuggled in and continued to focus on the movie. I had then slowly massaged Natasha’s neck. I could feel Natasha coming alive from the goosebumps on her neck. Natasha had then turned and looked into my eyes.
In reality, Natasha had been confused, almost shocked that day.
As I locked the flat and we stepped out to hail an auto rickshaw, Natasha’s
phone rang.
‘Hello? ’
‘What?’
‘When?’
I looked concernedly at Natasha as her tone grew increasingly distraught. She
then started sobbing. The phone dropped to the ground.
‘What happened, Natasha?’
‘My mama is serious. Natasha said, sobbing.
I flung her arms around Natasha. We stood there for a few minutes, outside our apartment, silent, hugging, with Natasha crying into my shoulder.
‘Don’t you need to get there?’
‘Yes. Let me book my ticket.’
‘Don’t worry, sweetheart. Let me book it for you. You pack.’
‘Please do not worry …’ I said, as I hugged Natasha tightly. The cab was waiting to take Natasha to the airport.
Natasha was back in a week. I hugged her tightly, wordlessly, as she stepped
inside their flat. Natasha clung on, breathing in my musky smell, her arms
hanging limply at my side.
How is your mama now.
She is well now, Natasha said.
‘Chalo, I’ve made some mushroom soup for you.’ I said gently, as I pulled away from Natasha to take a good look at her.
Sweet, sweet Natasha. Her kohl had streamed down her cheeks, making her look childlike and vulnerable.
‘I am aching all over, Malti didi, everywhere.’ Natasha said, sinking into the sofa.
‘I know, I know, baby…’ I said, stroking her hair. ‘I’m here for you. I’ve taken off from work today and tomorrow…’
‘You’re a blessing.’ Natasha smiled tearfully at me through her tears.
I fixed a quick dinner of wild mushroom soup. After dinner she went to her bedroom.
After half an hour I called out to Natasha. When she did not respond, I walked to Natasha’s bedroom.
There she was, sprawled on her bed, in her usual spread-eagled fashion. I smiled. I tiptoed to the bed and looked at Natasha. In the light of the moon streaming in through the window, Natasha looked beautiful. Her black top revealed her smooth shoulders and the creaminess of her breasts. The top had ridden up, and I could see her tiny waist and smooth stomach. Her shorts revealed her shapely hips and the fleshiness of her high butt. I could not help being aroused.