One Indian Girl(21)

I made a mock-sad face.

I need a hug. Move things forward, Debu. Do I have to give you an instruction manual?

‘It’s a sweet family,’ Debu said.

‘It is,’ I said. I wanted to stall the conversation with short, boring replies. Awkward silences lead to many interesting things.

Unfortunately, certain intellectual Bengali men don’t often get the hint.

‘Have you read The Beauty Myth by Naomi Wolf?’ Debu said.

‘No, what’s that?’

‘A landmark feminist book. It talks about how women are culturally bullied into feeling conscious about their looks all the time,’ he said.

‘Really? Well, to a certain extent it’s true,’ I said.

‘Yeah. Do men compare their physicality with their siblings so much?’

‘I guess not.’ At another time or place, like at one of our Friday dinners, I would have liked to engage in this intellectually stimulating conversation. Not now. I had other things on my mind.

‘Exactly,’ he said, ‘she says it is a way for men to control women and. . .’

‘My feet are killing me,’ I interrupted him. I removed my shoes. I brought my feet up on the bed. My short dress inched up a little further on my thighs. Debu forgot his chain of thought. I guess there are ways for women to control men too.

‘Sorry, what were you saying?’ I said. I squeezed and released my toes.

‘Huh?’ he said. ‘Nothing. I will give you the book.’

‘Not used to walking long distances in heels,’ I said.

‘Do you want me to give you a foot massage?’ he said.

And the Republic Day bravery award finally goes to Debashish Sen, I wanted to announce.

‘Really?’ I said. ‘You know how to?’

It was one of those stupid things girls sometimes say. We know it is stupid but we say it anyway to act na?ve or whatever.

I loved his hands on my feet.

‘Wow, that’s nice,’ I said. He pressed my feet timidly, as if I would get up and slap him any second.

He massaged my shins. His hands slowly moved up to my knees. I didn’t stop him.

‘Do you have lotion?’ he said. I pointed to the bedside table. He took a bottle of moisturizer and splashed it on my feet. I jerked as the cold lotion touched my skin. He put his warm hands on my legs. He moved them in a sliding motion from shin to knee.

I closed my eyes. I could feel his hands reach above my knees. Nobody had ever touched me there before, unless you count the waxing torture-chamber lady. Tingles of pleasure ran up my thighs.

He became bolder every minute, going higher. We didn’t exchange a word. He reached the hem of my dress. His fingers danced tantalizingly upon my thighs.

Is this all moving too fast? a voice within me said. Heck, I didn’t care.

‘Is this okay?’ Debu said.

I nodded. I opened my eyes. I signalled him to bring his face closer to mine. He leaned forward. Our lips met. I kissed for the first time in my life.

I could feel he had bottled up his desire too. His lips refused to leave mine. Our tongues touched. I lost track of time, space and orientation. I had seen kisses in the movies. I had imagined what my first one would be like. But this was better. Better than anything I had seen or imagined.

‘You are so beautiful,’ he whispered into my ear as he nibbled my earlobe.

He placed his hand on my breast, over my dress. He wanted to slide his hand in but couldn’t. I would have had to remove the entire fitted dress to give him access.

I pushed back his chest.

‘Is this going too fast?’ I said. Like any guy would actually say, ‘Yes, it is.’

‘No. Of course not. It feels right,’ Debu said, one hand on my thigh.

He moved his other hand to my back, trying to find the zipper for my dress.

‘There’s too much light,’ I said. Sure, he had praised my body. However, I had never taken off my clothes in front of a man. I couldn’t with so much light.

He switched off all the lights in the room. The window curtains remained open. The dim light from the Manhattan skyline was just about enough for us to see each other.

I had worn a new matching pair of red lingerie from Triumph, in anticipation.

Debu pulled my dress off. He unhooked my bra from behind. He removed his shirt as well.

‘What are you making me do, Debu?’ I whispered as I held my unhooked bra in place with my hands. I felt I had to make it seem like he made me do this. Never mind the pre-planned lingerie.

‘Just go with the flow,’ Debu said, standard boy-speak for ‘let me please have sex without interruption’.

He pulled the red bra out of my hands. He grabbed my breasts.

‘Not so hard, please,’ I said.

‘Sorry,’ Debu said.

‘You have done this before?’ I said.

He took a few seconds to answer.

‘If I say yes, will you ask me to stop?’ Debu said.

I laughed.

‘No, silly. Just that this is my first time,’ I said.

‘I had one girlfriend before. Two years back.’

‘Can we not talk about that now?’ I said.

He kissed my nipples. He moved up and kissed my collarbone. He kissed my chin and then my lips for several minutes. He tugged at my panties. My heart beat fast. Was I really going to get fully naked in front of a man?