of finality

You step out into the smoking zone. Your lungs are suddenly filled with smoke, and your heart with anticipation. You haven’t seen A since he made a pass at you and though you do want to know how he is doing, you don’t know how to deal with him. You’re very uncomfortable.

Ironically, the boyfriend is impressed by how quiet and lady-like you look tonight. He loves the dress and the high heels. Why don’t you dress like this more often?

Only if he knew what’s going on inside your head. Continue reading of finality

of wickedness

The conversation moves to politics. You don’t have much to add. You focus, instead, at the couple in the corner of the room. You focus on how animated she is in conversation. Her beautiful skin, her tanned arms, boobs the size of peaches. She has the body of a greek goddess, and she knows it. No wonder his hand is always resting on her waist. He says something witty. She laughs loudly. He blushes. She leans on him and kisses him on his cheek. He blushes some more.

You’re wondering if she’s any good in bed.

Hey you lovebirds, someone in their group calls out to you and your husband. Come and join us here. Let me introduce you to some of my other friends.

A short while later, you’re sitting across the table from him, flashing an evil smile.

A drop of sweat falls from his balding head as he sees your skirt ride up just a little as you cross your legs. Slowly. Deliberately.

She looks hurt. Your job here is done.

of good neighbors

Here you are again, slouching in your chair, head bent over your laptop, trying to type at the same speed as your thoughts. A million things a minute, no less!

You stop to breathe for a while. One thing at a time, please, and you shift your focus to where it all began. You think about the man who lived across the street when you were thirteen, who would sit in his balcony and read the newspaper every day. How he looked at you from across the street on a winter afternoon and how you read his mind.

Later that evening, you slipped on the road as you brought home groceries. He was there, right behind you, to arrest your fall. You got all coy and lady-like, and meekly whispered a “thank you uncle”. At home, you thought about how his hand around your bare waist felt warm and rough and moist and electrifying at the same time.

Years later, you finally gather the strength to admit that you weren’t about to fall until you realized he was walking behind you.