A few days after they had met near her PG, things had begun to change. The air of inhibition that had shrouded his natural behaviour so far had finally begun to subside. He no longer had to be careful about his hair, or if his shirt was tucked in or not, or about if there was something on his face. He began talking with her about the things he had hitherto only talked with his best friends and he liked her opinions on them. They agreed on more things than they disagreed on, and the little things that they disagreed upon were reconciled by her kisses. She kissed him on his cheek, and whenever she’d come forward and bend her head to kiss her, her hair would move sideways. An image that he never really quite got full off, an image that never left him alone since.
She started calling him Roni. He had two choices but Ron had sounded too foreign, too distant from his own personality. Roni wasn’t any better but he didn’t want to contradict her. He began dropping her to her PG till the same spot where he had first waited on her, always cautious of Sunita. And when they sensed that there was no one around, which was most of the times, they kissed and their hands traveled to the parts of each others’ bodies that were hitherto unknown to both. The first time she had yielded to his insistence and placed her hand inside his jeans and navigated it down, her nail touched the tip of his penis and he had grimaced in pain. She was scared as if she had done something wrong and began to apologize. It was the first time he had felt someone else’s hand on his penis. He had wanted her to continue but she stood at some distance, motionless, scared.
On some days, between their daring acts, the sounds, that one often imagines hearing while committing a crime, startled them, and the fear of Sunita used to send chills across Akshita’s body. ‘What if Papa came to know of this, about us?’ she whispered in his ears. And while she said that, so beautiful she looked, and her beauty made him even bolder than the previous times. Convincing him now that there is no passion more passionate than a passion fueled by the fear of being caught.
Time passed and he finally gathered the courage to invite her to his apartment. He had proposed that they meet after their classes, at around 8 PM, and that he’ll cook dinner for both of them. But a few months of togetherness had taught her about his clumsiness and she knew that of all the things he was capable of doing cooking certainly wasn’t one of them. But she too had waited for this moment for a long time, and so she feigned innocence and taking some time decided that they meet at 1 PM.
The next day, he had cleaned the entire flat all by himself, changed the sheets on his bed, and even deep cleaned the toilet attached to his room. She had come in at 1:30 PM, with a denim jacket over what later revealed itself to him as a camisole. He still remembered how hard she had laughed when he had called the camisole as ladies’ vest. That laughter, when he later thought about them, was the sealing point of their relationship. No amount of physical touching ever came as close to convincing him that she indeed loved him than the way she laughed at her naïveté that day. When his friends asked him when and how they had fallen in love with each other, he always replied, ‘ours was love at first laugh’.
How fulfilling had the sex been? Initial days were full of new positions, of trials and errors. The fear that he might start disliking it if they did too much gradually subsided. He learned about all the curves and corners of her body. They would lie naked for hours, watching movies, listening to songs, and even doing stuff that one normally did with clothes on.
Some days were just about sex, they’d have sex, order food online, and then having filled themselves again make their way to a different room. Even after three years of togetherness, he loved everything about her body just like when he had first seen it when he had undressed her the first time, her denim jacket had made way for her black camisole that shone over her wheatish skin leaving him bewitched at the contours of her breast, she had lifted his head and kissed him passionately on his lips. “Do whatever you wish to” she had whispered in his ear. It had all seemed so ethereal then. How could anyone’s life change like that, so fast and for so good? And, just then the sensual thoughts had made way for the scary ones. What if she would not let him go any further than he already had gone? What if she considered all of that had happened so far as a mistake and shun him? But then he had looked at her face, and her eyes were closed. And he knew that she was his, at once and forever. Years later, while he would try putting himself to sleep this scene would come to him and deprive him of some rest after a long day. That what they say about eyes is wrong. And that people often lied and when they lied their eyes lied with them.
END OF PART TWO
The picture used along with the writeup has been taken from here.