The Woman with a Cigarette - 2
Touching Aisha in the right places
Previously
2
It was a long ride up the elevator. Aisha was beside me, her shoulders straight, her chest pushed out. Her dress somehow looked tighter in the warm yellow lights of the elevator. We were going to the 17th floor. Everything about the building was posh, including the woman leading me up to her flat.
Since the doors to the elevator closed, we were quiet. The first time you are alone with a woman, behind closed doors, is always special. Closed doors are intimate, and Aisha’s perfume wasn’t making things easier.
My evening had been pretty downhill. Friends cancelling on you is never pleasant. It was worse because I was already at the bar where we were supposed to meet. If I had seen Aisha in my mid-twenties, I would have probably never talked with her. Chatting up a girl in the bar doesn’t work out particularly well in India, not even in Bombay.
However, when you are 30, and have seen the world, you realize that the worst that could happen is a display of some rudeness. And then if the girl is hot or pretty enough, you can take up some beautiful rudeness, and collect an anecdote to tell your buds over drinks later.
I followed Aisha out of the elevator. It was a long corridor, with grey accents, and warm ceiling lights. Walking behind her, I could appraise her better. I shouldn’t have, given the kind of tough time she was having. But, then again, I wasn’t speaking out loud that how juicy her ass looked in that dress.
Aisha didn’t look like someone who worked out frequently. There were pleasant flesh rolls here and there, but that only made her look hotter. I love raw hotness in women, and Aisha might well be the perfect specimen for what I like in women. She had enough flesh on her that her shoulder blades weren’t prominent, even though I could see most of her shoulder.
When she was searching for her keys, an older couple passed us by. Their gazed lingered a little over me. I put on a faint smile on my face, and kept my attention on Aisha’s fingers. I hadn’t observed the rose gold bracelet that she was wearing, and the watch on her wrist. Her smooth arms had been a big distraction.
She keyed in.
Her flat had an open kitchen, with the dining table attached to one of the kitchen isles. Aisha kept her wallet and phone on the table. I was still near the door, when she turned towards me.
“Make yourself comfortable,” she said, running her hand through her hair. She took off her bracelet and watch, and kept them beside her wallet.
I took off my shoes and was about to walk deeper into the hall, when she said, looking at my feet, “There are slippers there. You can use them. I think they will fit you.”
I did what she said. Those slippers were too large for her feet. I figured, they were her boyfriend’s. Harsh probably wore these when he spent time in her place. These slippers might have been around, when he was fucking her, when he came inside her. I took a deep breath, and told myself to control my erotic assumptions.
“Will you mind if I change? This isn’t the most comfortable of dresses to lounge in,” she said.
“Of course,” I nodded, “can I smoke here?”
She nodded. She looked around the kitchen for a bit, walked to the sink, and got me an ashtray.
“I thought you didn’t smoke much,” I said, taking the ashtray from her.
“I don’t, but Harsh does,” she said. Aisha’s face hardened a little when she said her name.
“Hmm,” I said, and looked at the couch.
“I’ll be back in a bit,” she said, walking towards her room. I saw her walk away. There was a natural sway to her gait. That ass required a sway, how else could she walk? When she was closing the door, our eyes met. She smiled, realizing that I had been looking at her while she walked away.
I sighed and sat down on the couch. I put the ashtray down at the coffee table in front of me and took out my phone. There were a few texts from Nidhi telling me that we were having breakfast outside the next day. She had asked me what I was doing. I told her that I am at a bar. That my friends had cancelled, and that I had been drinking and lounging alone.
All this while, all this honesty, yet, I don’t have it me to tell her the absolute truth. I probably don’t deserve Nidhi. But then again, nothing had happened between me and Aisha. Yes, I was at her place. And yes, she was probably naked in her bedroom right at that moment, choosing what she should be wearing. But there hasn’t been even a single sexual touch between me and Aisha.
“See you tomorrow,” I said.
“Don’t be late. I want you to be there by 9 AM,” Nidhi wrote back.
To make it on time from here to the place in Bandra, I’d have to leave around 8 AM from here, I calculated. I have dressed alright, but I would of course need to shower here. Yes, I know I was getting ahead of myself, but then again, the power of visualization. I kept my phone away.
I was alone in Aisha's living room, surrounded by the warm glow of the lamps. The room was elegantly furnished, with plush couches, intricately carved coffee tables, and paintings hanging on the walls. It was a space of sophistication, the kind you see in the pages of a high-end design magazine.
As I sat there, I took in my surroundings, letting my thoughts drift. The sounds of the city filtered through the windows, a distant hum that was almost soothing. I reached for my pack of cigarettes, lighting one as I leaned back into the couch.
I couldn't help but reflect on why I was here, in the luxurious apartment of a woman I had just met. It was a strange feeling, to be both drawn to her and yet hesitant at the same time. Was it simply because I was here to offer her solace, or was there something more beneath the surface?
I found myself constantly shifting, my eyes darting around the room as I tried to understand what I was feeling. A part of me was exhilarated, to be in the presence of such a beautiful and troubled young woman, but another part of me felt like an intruder, an outsider who didn't belong in this world where strangers are kind to each other, in a world where a man comes to a woman’s apartment, the woman he had met barely hours ago, just because he was worried about her.
As the moments passed, my trepidation grew, until I was almost paralyzed by it. I took a long drag from my cigarette, trying to steady myself as I waited for Aisha to return.
I felt unworthy to offer comfort to someone in Aisha's state of grief. I was aware that her heartache was due to her pregnancy and the recent revelation of her boyfriend's infidelity. It was a heavy burden to bear, and I wondered if I was capable of offering the solace she sought. I took a long drag of my cigarette, considering my emotional availability and the weight of the situation. I was here to be a shoulder to lean on, but could I truly fulfill that role?
Aisha emerged from her room, dressed in a simple sundress that accentuated each of her features. I couldn't help but notice the way the fabric hugged her curves, revealing just enough skin to make her tease my senses. The sundress ended half-way through her thighs. Those brown, smooth, and supple thighs. As she walked toward me, that’s what I looked at.
The sundress had thin straps, beige in color, just like her dress at the bar was. She wasn’t a bra. Her breasts were too big, to stay still as she walked towards me, without a bra. The sundress was tight, yet fluffy near the breasts. I obviously couldn’t make out her nipples.
Despite the comfort and casualness of her attire, her eyes were still red from tears and her face showed signs of exhaustion.
She approached me and sat down on the couch beside me, tucking her legs underneath her. The hem of her sundress rested neatly on her thighs, brown and beautiful. She looked at me and smiled. I smiled back, but was quiet after that. We sat there, in silence, just enjoying each other's company. I offered her my cigarette, and she took it and puffed at it, letting the smoke swirl around her face. She handed back the cigarette, smiling.
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"Do you want to drink some more?" I asked, breaking the silence.
"Yes," she said softly, "I think that's a good idea."
Aisha got up from the couch. I loved seeing her like that, in the intimate setting of her living room. I wish I could have touched her thighs then, the sundress did nothing to hide deliciously soft and supple there were. I could only imagine, how smooth they would feel when I touch them.
She got a large bottle of Jameson’s from her kitchen cupboard, and found two glasses. As she reached for the Jameson, she had stretched her body, the sundress had ridden up just a little, revealing more of the back of her thigh.
After that, she rummaged through the drawers to find two fat glasses. She had leaned over a little, to look for the glasses. The sundress, parted just enough to tease her breasts, but the neckline was faithful enough to not leave her skin.
Aisha poured us two large drinks, and walked back to the couch. She wasn’t wearing any slippers. Her naked feet, most of her naked legs, the jiggle in her bra-less breasts, and two large glasses of whisky — it was a perfect storm1.
She handed me the drink, and sat beside me, tucking her legs underneath her, just as she had sat earlier. I was done with my cigarette by then, I stubbed it.
"Do you travel much?" she asked, taking a sip of her drink.
"I do," I responded, feeling the warmth of the alcohol spread through my body. "I love to see new places, to experience different cultures and ways of life. And different people."
That was a lie. I don’t travel much. Yes, I do go to places now and then, like Alibag or Pune for work. But, I am not very big at packing a bag and going to places just for the scenic beauty. Of course, if a girl is involved, maybe I would.
"Me too," she said with a small smile. "But lately, I've been too busy to get away."
"Work has been keeping me busy," Aisha added, "I'm a professional stylist and I've been working on a few high-end projects lately. It's been a lot of late nights and long days, but the pay is worth it."
"That sounds impressive," I said, "It must be great to have a job you love and get paid well for it."
Aisha nodded, "I love it, but it can get overwhelming at times. It's hard to find time for anything else, especially travel."
"So, are you single?" Aisha asked, taking a large sip of her drink.
"Not exactly," I replied, "I'm in an open relationship."
Aisha's eyebrows furrowed as she tried to understand. "An open relationship?" she asked.
"Yes, my girlfriend, Nidhi, and I have agreed that we can see other people," I explained.
Aisha nodded, processing the information. "I was thinking you were single," she said.
"Well, I tend to give that impression," I said with a chuckle.
“What are you going to tell her?” Aisha asked, taking a cushion from the couch, on her lap. She rested her elbows on it, turning her body towards me.
I smiled. This was the moment2.
“I will tell her that I met this woman at the bar. She was hot and beautiful. She invited me to her place,” I said, smiling all along. I reached for a cigarette. I took one out for Aisha too. She took it from me quietly, her face focused on what I was saying.
“And, then at her place, we drank. We were sitting on her couch. She was wearing this nice sundress, which hugged each curve of her body,” I paused. I lit Aisha’s cigarette and then mine. And then I was quiet. I sipped my glass of whisky.
“And then what?” Aisha asked me, the smoke from the cigarette played around her lips as she talked.
“That’s it. I don’t know the rest,” I said, in a deadpan voice.
“Huh,” she said, sipping her drink.
"I'll make sure to mention you to Nidhi tomorrow when I see her for breakfast," I said.
Aisha nodded, lost in thoughts that I’d never know about.
“How long do you think it'll take to get to Salt Water Cafe in Bandra from here?" I added, with a hint of mischief in my voice.
Aisha smiled, understanding the implications. "It's a pretty quick ride from here. About half an hour, give or take," she said.
“It’s nice you know, that you two are in an open relationship. The fact that you two can give each other that kind of space. It’s a kind of honesty that I wish, I had with Harsh,” she said after a pause, her voice had a tinge of envy.
“Well,” I shook my head, “I don’t know, if it’s better. They say the grass is always greener on the other side.”
“I thought that we were in love. Me and Harsh,” she turned to look at me. I could see her gulping, her throat betraying her sadness.
“It’s okay,” I said.
“No, it’s not,” her voice cracked. She kept her glass away, the thud of the glass resonated through the empty house.
“Hey, hey,” I said, putting my hand on her thigh.
She covered her face with her hands. But she was crying.
“Aisha, it’s okay,” I said, closing the gap between us, and wrapping my arm around her, my hand resting on her shoulder. I rubbed her shoulder, trying to calm her down. In the process, the strap from her shoulder had slipped halfway through.
“Look, you are beautiful, and you are successful. He’s a fool to have done this,” I said, pulling her strap back up. She turned her head slightly to see me do it.
She removed her hand from her face. Her face had become a mess. It was still beautiful, but her eyes had reddened even more.
“Don’t cry,” I said, wiping a tear from her cheek.
She sniffled, and nodded.
“I am so sorry,” she said, rubbing her eyes, trying to wipe her tears, “I have been a total mess the entire evening.”
“That’s all right,” I said, picking up her glass of whisky, and handing it to her.
I leaned back on the couch, but didn’t move away. Our thighs were touching each other. Hers soft and brown, covered by the flimsy sundress, and mine, still in my denims.
“In fact, I am sorry,” I said.
“Why? You have been, so nice and —”
“No, it’s not that,” I interrupted her. “I am not good at calming people down, especially women.”
“Really? How do you manage to be in an open relationship, and see other girls, if you aren’t good that,” she said, taking a large sip from her glass. At that rate, her glass will be empty way before mine.
“I don’t know if I calm them, I just fuck them,” I said.
Now that I write about it, it was obnoxious to say that. Aisha was sad. She was grieving for her relationship, she was grieving for her being in a situation where she was pregnant with the child of a man who cheated on her. And she was all alone, with only the comfort of a stranger. And that stranger, says that the only way he knows to calm women down, is by fucking them.
I turned my head towards her when I didn’t hear a response. Aisha was looking at me, straight at me. Her face, didn’t show insult or annoyance. “I am sorry again, I shouldn’t be saying such things,” I said.
She was quiet. I decided to say one last thing. “I shouldn’t have talked about fucking, especially given the fact that you are in a relationship, pregnant with his child. I —”
“Don’t talk about me being in a relationship. Would you fuck a woman pregnant with someone else’s child?” she cut me off.
I raised my eyebrow. I didn’t want to chuckle. I didn’t want to smile. I said, “I have been told that I would fuck anyone who would let me fuck’em”
“Ha,” she said. She kept her glass down, and moved the cushion away from her lap.
She took my hand, and put it on her belly, “It wouldn’t matter, if I were already pregnant, you would still fuck me?”
I looked at my hand on her belly. There was obviously no hint of her being pregnant. It was too early. But that didn’t change the fact that someone’s seed was growing inside her. It takes away the biological reason to fuck, doesn’t it? You fuck a woman, so that you can cum inside her. Yes, it’s fun to do that. It’s fun to feel her tight pussy grip your dick, her warm and wet pussy to surround your hard dick, for your hard dick to rub against her pussy walls, to hear her moans, to kiss her while you pound her.
You would eventually cum. But what was the point of it, other than pleasure? What was the point of filling up a woman with your cum, when she was already pregnant?
“I would,” I said, giving her belly a light squeeze. I kept my glass away, and leaned towards her.
I stopped short of touching her lips with mine. I looked at her lips and then into her eyes. Still red, and glistening from crying.
She kept her palms flat on my chest. She didn’t push me away.
“This is wrong,” she whispered. I was drunk too, but I could still smell the whisky on her breath.
“It is. Also, two wrongs don’t make a right. But then again, who the fuck cares?” I said, before leaning in just a little further.
When I didn’t feel her push me away, I kissed her lips. Her thick, wet lips. As I kissed her lips, I kept giving her belly light squeezes. She moved her hands down from my chest, to hold the wrist of the hand that was on her belly.
I broke the kiss, to lean back. Aisha still had her eyes shut.
“I haven’t kissed anyone else in a while,” she said, licking her lips.
I smiled, and let my hand move from her belly to her thigh.
“And I am guessing, no one other than Harsh has touched you here in a while?” I said, as I caressed her thigh, slowly going up the length of her thigh, till I reached her groin.
“This is so wrong,” she said, in a breathy voice. I was looking into her eyes, when I touched the outline of her panty. It felt like a flimsy, worn out, comfortable panty.
“It is wrong, but then again, what do you think Harsh was doing with that girl he danced with?”
“Don’t say tha—” Aisha stopped speaking, her mouth gaping.
Because, my fingers had moved inside her panty by then. Her mouth gaped, because my finger was on her pubic bone, pressing and probing her most intimate place.
“Don’t you think he would have fucked her tonight?” I started circling her pubic bone. I was nowhere near her clit, but I love the feel of a new pussy under my fingers. Aisha’s was rough. It was obvious that she shaved her pussy, but she hadn’t shaved recently, maybe because her boyfriend was away. Because she didn’t expect anyone to touch her there. The first time I saw Aisha, I was attracted to her because of the rawness of her beauty. And the fact that her pubes hadn’t been shaved recently added to the rawness about her.
Aisha was vulnerable, exposed, and shattered. I shouldn’t have poked at the pain. It hurts to be cheated on. I know that firsthand3. But when she asked me if I would fuck her even if she was carrying another man's child, I felt my dick twitch. And when that happens, I usually do not do the right things.
I kept circling her pubic bone, till I found the spot which made her gasp for her.
“Answer me, don’t you think he would have fucked that girl tonight, if he could?” I asked her again, in a quiet voice, near her ears.
She moaned, a small moan, “I don’t know. But —” she moaned again.
The panty restricted my movement, especially because I had entered it from the side, and not from the top. I grabbed the waistband from inside the panty, and started pulling it down.
When Aisha raised her ass, to let me slip her panty away. I knew, there was no point holding back or poking at her pain anymore. She was broken. I couldn’t do anything about that. But, for that one night, I can pleasure her, to ease her pain. Thinking that, helps me sleep at night.
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Perfect storms usually lead to bad things. Not in this case though, at least not for me.
Moments like these are rare. All my stories have moments like these. They are stories that I write about because of such moments.
I keep mentioning Aradhana now and then. I have avoided writing about her, because it’s a difficult story to write. Yes, it’s a story from almost 7 years back, when I was just 23. It’s a story of heartbreak though. There was sex of course. But the heartbreak hurt. I had tried a lot to change the hurt into kink, but I think, it changed me. It changed the entire course of my life, eventually leading me to the kind of person I have become. For better or for worse.