A compassionate night. You and I are monsters made with the same elixir. Let’s root for our girl for the next 20 minutes, and remember, Name is Personal.
“What is wrong with the world? Everyone has one person or the other to rely upon. While here, I am building my life to the heights I fear every single day. I don’t have anyone to share the romance I write with. The poetry I so dearly wrote now seems mundane. The equation almost felt surreal, but it wasn’t two-sided. These words are just for you; do not yell them out to the world, dear bartender. You probably possess so many of my secrets, yet I hope you don’t play them to cut my ties tonight, for I will sleep with the first person who gets my humour, and I won’t feel like I’m cheating on the love of my life anymore. I’ve waited too long for him, but he won’t turn up as he is the solicitor who counsels other solicitors. He’s got no idea what feelings are, or he’s too scared to expose them. ENOUGH ABOUT HIM! I’m not talking anymore. Please serve me white rum. I’ll be good and won’t bug you, Mister Bartender.” Dhruv, the bartender, giggled and winked with no flirty remarks involved. He talked to me about the latest liquor available in the pub. Just like usual, I was lost in the thoughts of HIM. Whenever Dhruv asked me a question or my suggestions, I replied with the last few words that helped me comprehend the meaning of his conversation.
Why do I feel in-depth about him? There are many men I’ve spoken to, flirted with, yet he seemed to have all of me. I held on to my dignity as though it were the bribe I offered to serve as the temple guardian just like Medusa did, not that I believe in mythology, but I ought to if I needed a trophy husband. The difference is that I’m not attached to HIM anymore because I do not feel for him now, or is it the alcohol talking? I do not care. All I want to do is embrace it with all my might, for I might as well feel the best tomorrow. Maybe not, but I will give in to a good man today and deal with it tomorrow.
And there is a goodman’s approach, and I’m right! “Hey! Is the seat taken, or are you with someone?” asked this muscular-looking guy. “Why do you ask?” Said I “Well, your aura said something interesting about you. I also had a tough time reading your movements, and your conversation with the bartender was a nogo cause it felt like you had trouble choosing a drink or getting a surprise ready. Hence, the assumption could be wrong and partially right. Now will you tell me if the seat is taken or not?” said the caramel-eyed stranger and served me with the benefit of the doubt. I couldn’t deny his chivalry.
“It’s not occupied. I will help you flirt with me; you talk a lot. I kind of have no problem with it. Go on, tell me, why do you have to stare and understand the stranger at the bartender’s mercy?” said I.
“Why should I not flirt and stare at the person who just told me that she loves my company?” said the 6 feet tall flirt. I’ve given him so many names I can barely recall, so yes, he has the humour and a charm that intrigues me.
“I do not love your company, and I do not talk to strangers. You could be a creep for all I know,” said I.
“Well, people like Arin Ayuja,” said Arin.
“Well, I don’t trust people and don’t like them either,” I said.
“Arin! You have a lighter, don’t you?” Said I.
He reached out to pull out the box of Marlboro and placed it on the bar’s counter, and took my hand in him to crease it. He planted a kiss on my right-hand knuckle. I didn’t object; It felt tender and smooth. He settled on the stool beside mine, leaned into my ear and whispered, “You don’t need the flattery. You’ll only tell me your name if you want to stay with me for longer than just one night “.
It was straight out of the theatre and a book of fantasy. There was something about his voice I couldn’t ignore, trust perhaps, and I had the butterfly effect with every word he spoke. He had tattoos on his hand, and the sexiest place for a man to have tattoos is the hands. He kept staring into my eyes as though they were talking. For reality to commence now would be a grave sin. For the first time in all my existence on this planet, what was to occur now would be incorrect, destructive, imperative and heavenly desirable. It was going to be the most sensual thing I have ever experienced. I was going to sail with the first drop of water in the ocean.
All the exotic thoughts about the hands filled my mind. All I could think about was how it would feel to be wrapped and enveloped in those hands, and a night with Arin felt like the best ninth cloud I wanted to step on. I was heavenly sure about him, and I wouldn’t remember anything other than his name and body heat. The way his hand ceased mine was something I craved he’d do with all my soft spots. I stared back and could tell he wanted the same, and we were on the same page. His words were too difficult to believe, and they were dirty.
He turned and ordered the rum I was drinking. It felt different. I was happy. He asked me whether I wanted to take it further. I creased his hand the same way he did before and invited him to the ladies’ room. I entered, and not two seconds were over. He was inside. He locked the door and pushed me towards the wall. He enveloped my lips, pulled them all in his mouth, and gave me no opportunity to kiss him back. I was never so submissive to let someone dominate me this way.
He pulled back after what felt like heavenly honey and mint. I was growing to hate that he stopped kissing me, and then he said, “If we are taking this forward, I’m going to make you mine and not just for tonight but in all aspects. If you don’t want this, I will walk away. Tell me what you want?”
All I said to him was “YOU”. He smiled, and I didn’t realise that I was grinning too. It felt safe, and he embraced me, and it felt like a weight was taken off my shoulders, and my night went ahead better than everything else on the northern horizon of erotica. We walked out, hand-in-hand, with Dhruv grinning in my direction and damn me if I said I didn’t reply to every touch.
When he touched my newest ticklish spots, I giggled childishly. Arin was going to make me fall in love. I felt safe in his arms, our night turned into the day, and we weren’t finished yet.
“I want this,” I said.
“Tell me your name then?” Arin said.
“Mira,” I said.
” Mira, I have a lot more to tell you tomorrow. You are mine now!” Said Arin.
He praised my bodily flaws, loved my thoughts, and left me with no regret. He is going to fall in love too.
“I’ll make you breakfast tomorrow and sleep for now.” Said Arin.
