She unpinned her saree from the courageously low-lined blouse, still humming the song from the party. Mrs Chatterjee had a wine too many after three pegs of vodka, and not being used to it routinely, the music must have certainly left subtle tones in her soul. Like Red Bull, she was on wings. Chittor wasn't a place where one could expect such a get-together. All professional masks were performing disappearing acts and she had outwitted most of her colleagues.
Thump! She slumped on the four poster bed, her elegant figure not giving away her age, or desires. It hugged the skimpy nighty voraciously. Managing to drink her bedside glass of water and forgetting her medicines, she turned to her left, a faint smile distinct on her sleepy face. She didn't have a spouse to bring along with, so she shared the room with a young girl, Dipannita. As she spread her hands to hold her companion, her senses went back to the games floor.
It was a silly game she had thought when they announced "Musical Chair." It didn't quite turn out that way. The beginning bumps into Mr Roy were sensational, and while he made his way out coyly, Mrs Chatterjee repeated her closeness with everyone else, one by one -- a deft touch on Aniesha's waist, a sly slap on Prabal's shoulder, a lingering of an excuse in examining Smita's face powder, and of course the very brave pelvic proximity with Arunabha. She was having a premium time that night as her smile outshone the strings of fairy lights.
People have a way of blaming an alternate. They look forward to it. But the ones who are guilty, they know it best. Alcohol? thought Mrs Chaterjee, how stupid of them to believe in such a kind of intoxication. Where is she? How nice was Prabal's shoulder. I could feel myself melting away with each one of them. Did they hear me breathe huskily? Damn them then if they did. She turned over. Nobody touched me in years! I want a touch, just a touch!
The light came on. "That was some win, Mrs Chatterjee! Hope you are fine. Mrs Chatterjee? Are you asleep already?" Dipannita came towards the side of the bed to check on her. This is my only chance to remember how a kiss felt. She pulled her strongly and kissed her longingly. Once the frightfully disapproving Dipannita could free herself, Mrs Chatterjee was prepared.
"Oh! I am sorry Dipannita! Wine often makes one giddy! I am so used to my goodnight kiss from your Uncle...here, forget it, sorry. Let's sleep it away."
The next morning was one of chirps and giggles. Mrs Chatterjee walked into the breakfast area bereft of any guilt whatsoever, but conscious all the same. Her hands itched for a welcome touch, tactile as ever that she felt. All she wished for was another round of game, as she eyed each of her subjects earnestly.
"She said she was used to Uncle kissing her each night! To believe they would kiss in such supremacy even now! The woman lacks moral you know!" Dipannita was mouthing over her toasted sandwich, the events of the previous night. "Oh look she has just took that air-kiss to a different level!"
Mrs Chatterjee sat with her earl-grey at the loneliest corner of the terrace, her smile confirming her presence. None of you can ever compete with the touch that last touched me, it was love, it was lust and there was absolutely no luck about it. That was my lover, long dead. All of you have failed miserably. Here remains an aching body for a sensuous touch.
She got up and made her way towards the juice counter. As she accepted her fresh pineapple juice, the waiter was amused at how long she took to take it in her stride, one finger at a time, each sending electric vibes of desire.
This little boy will be terrific. Would have been.
Thump! She slumped on the four poster bed, her elegant figure not giving away her age, or desires. It hugged the skimpy nighty voraciously. Managing to drink her bedside glass of water and forgetting her medicines, she turned to her left, a faint smile distinct on her sleepy face. She didn't have a spouse to bring along with, so she shared the room with a young girl, Dipannita. As she spread her hands to hold her companion, her senses went back to the games floor.
It was a silly game she had thought when they announced "Musical Chair." It didn't quite turn out that way. The beginning bumps into Mr Roy were sensational, and while he made his way out coyly, Mrs Chatterjee repeated her closeness with everyone else, one by one -- a deft touch on Aniesha's waist, a sly slap on Prabal's shoulder, a lingering of an excuse in examining Smita's face powder, and of course the very brave pelvic proximity with Arunabha. She was having a premium time that night as her smile outshone the strings of fairy lights.
People have a way of blaming an alternate. They look forward to it. But the ones who are guilty, they know it best. Alcohol? thought Mrs Chaterjee, how stupid of them to believe in such a kind of intoxication. Where is she? How nice was Prabal's shoulder. I could feel myself melting away with each one of them. Did they hear me breathe huskily? Damn them then if they did. She turned over. Nobody touched me in years! I want a touch, just a touch!
The light came on. "That was some win, Mrs Chatterjee! Hope you are fine. Mrs Chatterjee? Are you asleep already?" Dipannita came towards the side of the bed to check on her. This is my only chance to remember how a kiss felt. She pulled her strongly and kissed her longingly. Once the frightfully disapproving Dipannita could free herself, Mrs Chatterjee was prepared.
"Oh! I am sorry Dipannita! Wine often makes one giddy! I am so used to my goodnight kiss from your Uncle...here, forget it, sorry. Let's sleep it away."
The next morning was one of chirps and giggles. Mrs Chatterjee walked into the breakfast area bereft of any guilt whatsoever, but conscious all the same. Her hands itched for a welcome touch, tactile as ever that she felt. All she wished for was another round of game, as she eyed each of her subjects earnestly.
"She said she was used to Uncle kissing her each night! To believe they would kiss in such supremacy even now! The woman lacks moral you know!" Dipannita was mouthing over her toasted sandwich, the events of the previous night. "Oh look she has just took that air-kiss to a different level!"
Mrs Chatterjee sat with her earl-grey at the loneliest corner of the terrace, her smile confirming her presence. None of you can ever compete with the touch that last touched me, it was love, it was lust and there was absolutely no luck about it. That was my lover, long dead. All of you have failed miserably. Here remains an aching body for a sensuous touch.
She got up and made her way towards the juice counter. As she accepted her fresh pineapple juice, the waiter was amused at how long she took to take it in her stride, one finger at a time, each sending electric vibes of desire.
This little boy will be terrific. Would have been.
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