Drunk Upper class woman - Makes out with anyone - even with a Rickshaw Puller(video+)

[ashuezy2]

Scene 9: The Make out with Rickshaw Puller (Video shared above)

The cool night air of the street hit them, but it did nothing to sober Anya up. She was giggling, leaning almost her entire weight on Kian.
Kian held her tight, his mind still spinning from her lips on his neck.

Zara came out of the cafe behind them, her face pale.

Zara: “Shit, Kian. Look at her. She's gone. We can't put her in the car with Suresh bhaiya.”

Kian: (His voice was still thick, but the practical problem was sinking in) “No. Not after yesterday. And... he’d smell this. She reeks of it.”

Zara: “And my parents will kill me if I bring her home like this. My dad will lock me in my room for a year. Yours?”

Kian: (Shaking his head) “My house is not an option. My mother is waiting up.”
They were stuck. Trapped on a busy pavement with a giggling, with talli(drunk) girl who couldn't stand up straight.

Zara: “Okay, okay, I have an idea. We just... we have to walk her around. We need water. And mints. Lots of mints. Sit her down here.”
Kian carefully lowered Anya to sit on the edge of the pavement, the patri, her back against a lamppost.

Anya: (Giggling as she sat) “The ground is spinning! Wheee!”

Zara: “Shit. Okay, Kian, just... watch her. Don't let her talk to anyone. I'll run to the pan-waala(pan shop) at the corner for water and gum. I’ll be right back.”

Zara ran off, disappearing into the crowd.

Kian was left alone with Anya. He squatted in front of her. Just then, his phone buzzed.
He looked at it. Maa Calling. He couldn't ignore it.

Kian: (His voice strained, answering) “Hello? Hi, Ma. No, I'm just... I'm still in college. Library. Yes, library.”
He stood up and turned his back to Anya, just for a moment, to make his lie more convincing. He paced two steps away.

Kian: “Yes, Ma... I know it's late... I'm just finishing some notes... I'll be home in an hour.”
Anya was left alone on the pavement. The world was a wonderful, blurry, spinning light show.
She saw a cycle rickshaw parked just a few feet away, in the shadow, waiting for a customer.

The rickshaw puller, a thin man in a pujama and head band and a shirt, was just sitting on his own seat, smoking a bidi, watching the traffic.
Anya giggled. He looked... funny.

She stood up, wobbly, but with a mission. Kian's back was still turned.
She tottered over to the rickshaw. The man saw her coming. A rich, amreekan-looking (American-looking) college girl. He was confused.

Rickshaw Puller: “Kya chahiye, memsahib?” (What do you want, miss?)
Anya didn't answer. She just put her hands on the side of the rickshaw and climbed onto the back seat, he was standing with his hands on the handle of the rickshaw.

Rickshaw Puller: (Arre! kahan chalna hai... Madam...) “Hey! Where to... Madam?”

He was alarmed, watching her movements.
Anya just smiled at him. She loved his shocked face. It was just like Suresh bhaiya's face.

Anya: (Slurring) “You... are... cute.”
Before he could react, she leaned in, grabbed his rough, sweaty vest, and pulled his face to hers.
She kissed him.

It wasn't a peck. It was a deep, wet, passionate kiss. She mashed her lips against his, pushing her tongue right into his shocked, tobacco-tasting mouth.
The man froze. His bidi fell from his fingers. He was terrified.

The street was busy. Cars, autos, and buses were rushing by, their headlights sweeping over them. But nobody was looking at a parked rickshaw in the shadows. They were invisible.

Anya's other hand, the one not holding his vest, moved down.
It landed on his lap, on his thin cotton pajama.

She didn't hesitate. She knew what she was looking for.

She found his "beep beep."

She started stroking him, right there, from outside the cloth, her fingers moving up and down, feeling him start to get hard under her hand.
The rickshaw puller made a small, choked sound. He was completely stunned, half-terror, half... something else. He didn't push her away. He couldn't.

Kian: (Finally hanging up) “...I'll be home in an hour. Bye.”
He turned around, pocketing his phone.

Kian: “Anya, Zara should be back...”
The pavement was empty.
His heart stopped. Stops.

Kian: “Anya? ANYA!”
He spun around, panic rising.
And then he saw it. The parked rickshaw. He saw her shape in the shadows, on the back seat.
He ran over.

Kian: “Anya! What the... hell...?”
He stopped dead. He saw her hand moving. He saw her mouth on the man's face.

He reacted on pure, horrified instinct.
He grabbed Anya by the arm and ripped her out of the rickshaw.

Kian: (Screaming, his voice cracking) “GET OFF HIM!”
Anya tumbled out, landing hard on the pavement, completely shocked by the sudden violence, her jeans dirty up her legs.

The rickshaw puller was just staring, his eyes wide, his mouth open, breathing hard.
Just then, Zara ran up, holding a water bottle.

Zara: “I got it! What... what happened? Why is she on the ground?”
Kian was just standing there, breathing like he just ran a marathon, looking from the terrified rickshaw puller to Anya on the ground.

Kian: (His voice was shaking) “She was... she was kissing him. She was... touching him.”
Zara looked at Anya, who was starting to cry from the shock and the fall. She looked at the terrified rickshaw puller. She looked back at Kian's white, shaking face.
Her jaw dropped.

Zara: “Oh... my... god.”


This is a massive escalation. She is now completely out of control.