He called me out of the blue. Unexpectedly as I was sitting on my bed on a Saturday afternoon wearing three layers of clothing (a top under a sweater under an indoor jacket), thick socks under my indoor moccasins and reading Maximum City. It was -20 degrees with windchill out but inside I could feel the intense heat of election day in the state of Maharashtha (which was partly due to my fleece zip-up and the steamy cup of hot green tea in my hand). I could hear the chatter of the people of Mumbai talking amongst each other in line at the poling station deciding whether they want Bal Thackery in power or a fresh new face who is equally as unlikely to keep his election promises. Each citizen forced out of their homes to stand under the flaming hot sun eagerly waiting her or his turn in line to cast in their vote so that they could return home and have their cable restored after voting as promised. This is the only way the government can force it’s citizens to perform their civic duty. Maximum City is a book that I have been taking my sweet time with, reading it slowly so to keep my memories of Mumbai fresh in my mind even 2 years later, a city that I have found, fell in love with and don’t want to lose.
Let me be clear there is nothing going on between us but when his name appears on my Blackberry it excites me but in a comforting way and comforts me in an exciting way. I answered the phone with a “Hello”. “Hi, why are you whispering?” he replied. “Because I can” I continued. “What are you doing?” he asked. “I’m reading a book” I whispered. “Are you going to continue whispering?” he asked. “Yes” I replied wondering if he would play along, hoping that he would play along but he had no thoughts that he wanted to conceal. “I was thinking about you” he went on, telling me something he could have just conveyed to me in a simple text message instead of interrupting me while I day dreamed about being in the midst of election day complaining about the humidity sipping on lemon-aid and then complaining that the unfiltered water would make me sick. “Yes I know” I replied with a seemingly unaffected tone in my whisper but grateful that my phone (which I felt was going through a dry spell) rang. “How do you know?” he asked. “Because you texted me last night and I figured you’d still be thinking about me in the morning and late afternoon until you finally caved in and called” I answered with a sharp matter-of-facted-ness in my whisper and the intent of getting under his skin so I can get under him. “Really?” he asked knowing that he has been outted. “Yes” I whispered keeping it short and sweet, I had an inclination to fuck with his mind and his head for a while…and long as I could. “Well I’m thinking about you” he replied. “I know hence why you called” I said half jokingly and half serious. There was a pause that I broke being the curious cat that I am by nature. I wanted to know what kind of thoughts were running through his head. “What are you thinking about?” I questioned knowing exactly how he would reply. “Your body. It’s so hot” he replied, clearly having no desire to beat around the bush. He went straight to the point. “Tell me more” I replied as I placed my light blue book mark that I purchased from a quaint little bookstore in Bandra between the pages of my book that I was reading so I didn’t have to bend a page (which drives me crazy) eager to hear more memories that he had of me. He didn’t feed my curiosity nor did he affirm what I thought he was going to say. “I want you” he announced. “hmmm” I thought out loud. “Get ready I’ll be there in 5” he said. But I didn’t feel like leaving my bed that I had finally made a comfortable nest in. The only place I was willing to leave my bed covered in flannel sheets for was India I thought to myself but my desire for attention controlled my tongue. “No 7pm” I whispered without thinking my decision through. With very little exchange I wanted him too. “Okay” he replied. “Bye bye” I ended the phone call.
I didn’t want to get out of my room. I didn’t want to change out of my house-clothes. I didn’t want to take off my indoor boots and change into my outdoor boots. I didn’t want to brush my teeth again and run a comb through my hair. I did not want to face the cold which sucks the moisture out of my skin and turns it dry and flaky. And most importantly, I did not want to take all off my clothes off just to put more on that I would eventually have to take off when I come back home just to put my home ones on, it is such a task. Just as I was contemplating cancelling my plan to see him PING. My blackberry rang. It was a text message from him. “Don’t wear underwear” it read and I naturally rolled my eyes, “you better smell like yourself” I texted in return giving him hope that by not acknowledging his text directly my reply indicated that I was going to comply with his request.
I don’t know what it is about him that drives me crazy. Maybe it’s his absence, he is rarely present in my life despite being a 1 minute drive away from me. Combine that with his lack of involvement in it (he doesn’t even remember my birthday or know my favourite colour. It’s January 27 and blue just for your information) but I think I like that because it makes his unexpected random phone calls and text messages (that always seem to follow a similar pattern. A “hi” followed by a “I’m thinking about you” which leads to the obvious) severely hot. It always leads to the obvious no matter how much I try to resist him, he gets to me, I let him get to me rather. But there’s more to it (or at least I like to think there’s more to it in order make myself feel that my moral character is in tact and so that I can fool myself to thinking that I am living the virtuous life when clearly I am not because my decisions are irrational). He smells good, he has a nice nose, bitable ears, the way he mispronounces my name drives me nuts and the way he kisses is heavenly; just absolutely waffles-bananas-and-Nutella-with-whip-cream-heavenly and I feel that no one will ever be able to kiss me like him again. I wish I could describe his lips but any description would be inadequate but I can try. His lips are soft (like even in the harshest of winters), light pink, thin and I know I mentioned they are soft but they feel so soft when I brush my fingers against his lips. And his kisses are nothing short of perfection. Okay so maybe there’s nothing more than than the physical and psychological combined with the obvious fact that I have come to realization that I’m lonely and lack same-age male attention (despite being “out there” [and by “out there” I mean outside my room I still get accused of still not being “out there” enough to attract good looking guys, I don’t know how much more “out there” I could be!] and have significantly lowering my standards to now include guys who may not have an interest in art or art history and don’t think Bryan Adams is a Canadian treasure, he’s the only one who likes me. I am not sorry but there are things that I am not lowering my standards for. If you do not type in coherent sentences when texting me then I don’t want to hear from you again).
I walked out of a comfortably heated house into the frigid cold Canadian outdoors drowning myself into my scarf but careful not to smudge my wine coloured lipstick and more importantly to not get a lipstick stain on my scarf. I got into his car and quietly waited for him to talk. “Kiran” he said as he turned over to look at me “come here” he drew me close to kiss me suspending all my thoughts, making me forget the weather and the layers of uncomfortable clothes that I had on under my jacket. “Look at my hands” I instructed “they’re frozen” being slightly dramatic, they were not frozen per say but just cold through complete fault of my own for owning gloves and not wearing them. He took my hand in his and studied it “it’s not that bad” he said and nestled it between my thighs “there, better?” he asked as he slowly brushed his thumb against me repeatedly as he drove. My silence was his answer and his hand between my thighs would raise more questions for me as we continued into the night.
He looked over at me with his dark brown twinkling eyes raging with lust and happy and removed my glasses carefully placing them on the side of his bed and pulled me in closer by my jacket and kissed me. His kiss sent this incredible warmth all the way down to my toes. In that moment I knew my tongue made the better choice and perhaps my common sense doesn’t ensure a fun time. He had me in that moment and he knew it as I carefully made my way on to him, my lips still locked with his. I kissed him back. He began to unbutton my pants and he suddenly broke away. “You’re wearing underwear!” he scolded me as his hands began to explore my body, going beneath the clothing upon clothing that I was wearing to protect myself from the cold. I nodded my head as I looked at him completely unapologetic, his hands felt warm against my tummy and my back. “You smell nice” I smirked with my hands wrapped around his head looking into his eyes. My smirk only reminding him that he honoured his end of the text deal while I did not. He masked his annoyance well and smiled. How could he be mad? I pulled him closer bringing his lips back to mine and closing the distance between us. He held me securely, almost as if thought that I would escape but I had no intention of doing that and going back out into the freezing cold. I sat straddled on him as he took his time stripping away all my clothes, I could feel him getting harder beneath me and it only made me want him more. “Up” he said signalling me to put my hands in the air so he could take off my camisole, I quietly complied getting restless, regretting all the layers of clothes I wore, wanting all my clothes off and him all over me. “I want to make love to you” he said as he inched closer to my neck, smothering me with kisses. Licking me from my chin to the skin of my breasts, cupping them gently but firmly in the way that only he knows how. “Now” he whispered in my ears as if this was a secret. “So you’re whispering now eh?” I joked, my fingers playing with his short brown hair. (The thing with his hair is that it’s so short I can never clench it between my fingers, or grab it as when I squirm in delight. He just doesn’t have the Shah Rukh Khan rukh-ja-Kiran-play-with-my-hair-hair but that’s okay). His cologne became increasingly intoxicating, the hints of cedarwood exuded sex and masculinity and his body had become so familiar to me was my security blanket as he swiftly laid me down on his pillow. He took his time, looking at me, studying me and I pulled him closer to kiss him. “You’re beautiful Kiran” he said to me suddenly taking me out of the moment and deep into a thought.
“You’re beautiful”. His words kept repeating in my head as he kissed me. Words that I didn’t want to hear. Especially from him. He had no reason to tell me that I was beautiful. He had absolutely no reason to ruin our moment and my enjoyment of him. For one, he had me exactly where he wanted me without the need for a romantic filler. Two, I was reserving that statement for a time where I was with someone who I mattered to. He ruined it. Words that I had been waiting for to hear from someone for the longest time suddenly felt cold, empty, void of any meaning and blah. He took my experience away from me because although beautiful, not beautiful enough to matter.