07-03-2019, 11:06 AM
I don't usually smoke, but I need a drag at times. I went out for a smoke that evening and I heard shouts from their condo. It went on for a while before I heard a loud smack of their front door. I presumed Dinesh had left.
Contemplating for a moment, I jumped over the railing that separated our two balconies. I peeped in through the glass doors and found Varsha weeping on their sofa. She seemed unharmed, so I chose to go back. I wanted to comfort her but didn't want to make things worse if Dinesh decided to return.
***
Neither Varsha nor Dinesh discussed their spat with me, but Varsha stopped calling me Bhayya from that day onwards. She just called me Vicky, even in the presence of her husband. I wasn't sure if it was to piss him off or if she was just tired of the façade behind the word. Nevertheless, I didn't ask her, nor did she talk to me about it.
Although my friendship with them wasn't adversely affected, I could tell that their relationship was under strain. Dinesh spent more time away from home and Varsha spent more of her free time in my company, and our friendship blossomed even more; Almost to the point that I sometimes felt that Varsha saw me as a female friend, discussing things like how she was on the pill and such.
But my own feelings for her began to change. As I spent time with her, I began to notice her form: the twinkle in her eyes when she smiled; the sag of her heavy lower lip; the way she brushed her curls behind her ear; the ravine off her cleavage when she leaned forward; the gentle curves of her waist; and the width of her hips when she bent down.
And, when I woke up one night after a wet dream starring Varsha, I knew I was in trouble. I remember cursing myself, for she was a married woman and I had no interest such dramas.
So, when I came to know that I would be moving that April, my feelings were mixed. I was saddened that I'd be leaving my new friend, but glad that I could leave before my feelings towards her became even more intense. I had lived in the town for 9 months and known the couple for 7.
When I told them about my impending departure in three weeks, Dinesh's response was mixed but Varsha made her sadness evident. She spent even more time with me.
That weekend, Dinesh once again went away for a business trip and Varsha came over as soon as he left on Saturday morning.
"Pesto Pasta?" she chimed. Dinesh loved home cooked meals, despite being unable to cook himself. So Varsha loved ordering out when he wasn't around.
"Sure. Movie?" I returned.
"Yeah."
"Come on in then. I need to take quick shower. Pick a movie for me," I told her, leading her to my living room.
"Yeah sure," she said, flopping herself on my couch. She had become quite comfortable around me.
After my shower, I realized that I did not have any underwear in my room.
"Varsha! Do you mind if I come out in my towel? My underwear is the laundry," I shouted from behind the door.
"I don't care!" she shouted back.
I stepped out and noticed that she was looking at me. I gave her a smile and waddled my way across to the kitchen, where the laundry lady left my basket. I felt her eyes following me, but when I turned around with my trunks in hand, she was back to browsing on Netflix.
I cam back fully clothed and flopped down beside her. I only had a double couch and a chair, and I wasn't going to sacrifice comfort for prudish notions. Our shoulder brushed against each other and I felt her warmth through her clothes. She showed no inclination to move away.
We watched 'The Proposal', and as the movie ended, I noticed the slow drizzle of rain outside. Nostalgia of the past seven months set in as the concept leaving my beautiful friend sunk in. I walked up to the glass door and opened it.
An earthy smell wafted in, despite us being on the seventh floor. The humid breeze contrasted with the chill of my heavily airconditioned apartment.
I stood at the balcony entrance, gazing at the grey ocean, and Varsha came and stood beside me in silence. I suddenly remembered something she'd said a long time ago.
"Wanna go out and get wet?"
As if in response the drizzle turned into a downpour.
"Log kya kahenga? -- What will people say?"
"Let's go to the terrace. I am sure no one will be around," I said, turning to her.
She hesitated a moment before nodding.
We took the elevator to the tenth floor and climbed up the final set of stairs to the terrace. I boldly walked into the rain and the downpour quickly drenched my clothes. I turned around and gave her a smile, blinking to keep the water out of my eyes. Varsha held a hand against her forehead and hurried towards me.
Contemplating for a moment, I jumped over the railing that separated our two balconies. I peeped in through the glass doors and found Varsha weeping on their sofa. She seemed unharmed, so I chose to go back. I wanted to comfort her but didn't want to make things worse if Dinesh decided to return.
***
Neither Varsha nor Dinesh discussed their spat with me, but Varsha stopped calling me Bhayya from that day onwards. She just called me Vicky, even in the presence of her husband. I wasn't sure if it was to piss him off or if she was just tired of the façade behind the word. Nevertheless, I didn't ask her, nor did she talk to me about it.
Although my friendship with them wasn't adversely affected, I could tell that their relationship was under strain. Dinesh spent more time away from home and Varsha spent more of her free time in my company, and our friendship blossomed even more; Almost to the point that I sometimes felt that Varsha saw me as a female friend, discussing things like how she was on the pill and such.
But my own feelings for her began to change. As I spent time with her, I began to notice her form: the twinkle in her eyes when she smiled; the sag of her heavy lower lip; the way she brushed her curls behind her ear; the ravine off her cleavage when she leaned forward; the gentle curves of her waist; and the width of her hips when she bent down.
And, when I woke up one night after a wet dream starring Varsha, I knew I was in trouble. I remember cursing myself, for she was a married woman and I had no interest such dramas.
So, when I came to know that I would be moving that April, my feelings were mixed. I was saddened that I'd be leaving my new friend, but glad that I could leave before my feelings towards her became even more intense. I had lived in the town for 9 months and known the couple for 7.
When I told them about my impending departure in three weeks, Dinesh's response was mixed but Varsha made her sadness evident. She spent even more time with me.
That weekend, Dinesh once again went away for a business trip and Varsha came over as soon as he left on Saturday morning.
"Pesto Pasta?" she chimed. Dinesh loved home cooked meals, despite being unable to cook himself. So Varsha loved ordering out when he wasn't around.
"Sure. Movie?" I returned.
"Yeah."
"Come on in then. I need to take quick shower. Pick a movie for me," I told her, leading her to my living room.
"Yeah sure," she said, flopping herself on my couch. She had become quite comfortable around me.
After my shower, I realized that I did not have any underwear in my room.
"Varsha! Do you mind if I come out in my towel? My underwear is the laundry," I shouted from behind the door.
"I don't care!" she shouted back.
I stepped out and noticed that she was looking at me. I gave her a smile and waddled my way across to the kitchen, where the laundry lady left my basket. I felt her eyes following me, but when I turned around with my trunks in hand, she was back to browsing on Netflix.
I cam back fully clothed and flopped down beside her. I only had a double couch and a chair, and I wasn't going to sacrifice comfort for prudish notions. Our shoulder brushed against each other and I felt her warmth through her clothes. She showed no inclination to move away.
We watched 'The Proposal', and as the movie ended, I noticed the slow drizzle of rain outside. Nostalgia of the past seven months set in as the concept leaving my beautiful friend sunk in. I walked up to the glass door and opened it.
An earthy smell wafted in, despite us being on the seventh floor. The humid breeze contrasted with the chill of my heavily airconditioned apartment.
I stood at the balcony entrance, gazing at the grey ocean, and Varsha came and stood beside me in silence. I suddenly remembered something she'd said a long time ago.
"Wanna go out and get wet?"
As if in response the drizzle turned into a downpour.
"Log kya kahenga? -- What will people say?"
"Let's go to the terrace. I am sure no one will be around," I said, turning to her.
She hesitated a moment before nodding.
We took the elevator to the tenth floor and climbed up the final set of stairs to the terrace. I boldly walked into the rain and the downpour quickly drenched my clothes. I turned around and gave her a smile, blinking to keep the water out of my eyes. Varsha held a hand against her forehead and hurried towards me.
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