Friday, May 21, 2010

The Fist

“That’s how one starts. Now, clench.”

She is not ashamed anymore. I am. We’re at it again. Let’s.

“Good. Now, unclench.”

It’s all female; that little thing beating between her bold, sorry breasts.

“Now, clench again and tell me what you feel.”

I stare at her. Pervert. Something in her reminds me of the sea. Wave on wave. I look away.

“What can you do with that?” I ask.

I return to the sea. I’m building thoughts. I stare at her still. I fix my gaze at no particular part of her body. She is all.

“What can you do with that?” I ask her again.

She mumbles something. Talks of power. Talks of the guilt held within. My hands get restless. I’m flushed with sex.

“You can do nothing with a closed hand”, I tell her.

She opens. Her sick secret leans against mine. For a moment I look at her shoulders. Brooding. Heavy with sleep. Like pigeons on lazy summer afternoons….

My fingers recoil. Waking themselves to war. Yet again.

Now Playing:: Humsafar hain sabhi.....................Kishore & Asha


janani sampath said...

raw passion...

Debasish.. said...

See I had told you, that is what happens when you read the 'The French Lieutenants Woman;


Abhishek said...

what what what