She sat and played with her drink... the shamiana and the hem of her skirt fluttering in the winter chill. It was a strange atmosphere: the wood charcoal smoke mingled ith the burning wed and chicken tikka, little wedding lights lined the entire wall, twinkling in invitation. On the table across, sat a family of four, bedecked in Punjabi wedding finery -- basically enough bling to blind -- polishing their food without a damn about anything or anyone else. The 'anyone else' included her and the three men on another table; two of them with dreadlocks and another in a short-sleeved tee over toned biceps, a sturdy neck and invitingly broad shoulders...the kind you see and want to piggy-back ride on. Yes, she wanted to piggy-back ride him and bite his arms, she thought and laughed out loud. Incongrous! Dirty thoughts, Punjabi family and the DJ spinning some obscure psytrance inside the restaurant to go with the newly installed lazer lights.
Having watched the Family of Four diligently devour their chicken wings for quite some time, she took her rum and cola and moved inside hoping the break beats would provide a break from an extremely boring evening. As she stood next to the speakers -- more to drown out the peripheral noises rather than any real appreciation for the DJ's (lack of) talent -- someone pushed past her. She turned and found herself looking into Broad Shoulder's eyes. Green ones and a gorgeous face to go with them too, she noticed. HE seemed to notice her too, for as he passed her by, he turned and gave her a thorough up-down look. For the next hour, they looked at each other from across the room.
Sometime later, they found each other standing with the same group of people. Introductions out of the way, they talked, jumping across random topics randomly.
"Should we move to the terrace?" he suggested, looking down her cleavage that sent a thrill down her spine and up her thighs.
They talked on the terrace, elbows casually touching as they sipped their drinks, fingers lingering just that little longer while exchanging cigarettes and a gradually building awareness that they were alone on the terrace.
"May I kiss you?" he asked.
To be continued...
March 22, 2007
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4 comments:
I'm tempted to say in Borat-ese: "aa vaaairy naice, this nooky-nooky'
So does this like really happen? green eyes, toned arms and all? All I get to chat up in the rare clubbing nights are frumpy-looking wannabe chicks who turn out to be underage under all that makeup:-(...but then I dont have extremely toned hands and definitely no green eyes.
A green pallor takes over, though, at the luck of some lucky buggers.
why would a self respecting man EVER ask a woman "May" i kiss you ????? that's the chut-est thing to do ever !! eww-yuck-bleblahbluebleublah!
either u kiss or u dont kiss !!
because that would save him the trouble of having a woman kiss him out of politeness or boredom. Some smart men, ask.
raccoon, No hand party. ok. thats not the way to toned arms.
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