Tuesday, August 25, 2009

High Hopes

“Bitch come close to me” he says and bites my neck. Little goose bumps cover my arms. I clench my thighs.
“So can we work out this strategy?"…a voice trails
I wake up and stare at him blankly. My mind has been wandering again in the land of erotica.
Huh..yeah Yeah I answer.
Seconds mingle to mins and minutes slitter to hours and I am still in the meeting
Sometimes when I am bored, I think of wild sex.
Wild movements…
People jumping wildly out of the window…out of the meeting room.

We were a bunch of people talking animatedly about things that mattered the least to us,we had to because we were getting paid for that. At the extreme right was a very insignificant guy…like one of those guys even the ugliest woman ignored. For some weird reason I felt irritated just having him in the room. That perfectly combed oily hair, the pretended concentration and then I spied it. I thought first it was a rash. I leaned closer and ascertained that it was undoubtedly a symbol of an act of passionate nature.
He was sporting a hicky…not the boring maroon patch but a fresh crimson bite hicky.
Now that made it interesting. The Sexholic Holmes in me woke up.

I scanned the woman next to him. Droopy saggy chin, short hair, crooked teeth but sharp. Her forearms were touching him. He was leaning towards feigning interest in her presentation. Elementary Watson. Its her .

I watch him with rapt attention that after sometime I could hear their collected breathing separated from everyone else’s. Then I catch the rhythm of her arms supposedly touching
his accidently. I could see the glisten of sweat on his upper lips and she was biting her lower lips. His breath was hot on her cheeks and he started necking her …and then he slumps down on her.

There are on the floor.She is screaming. “he has fainted, he has fainted”.
Every body looks at them immobolised for a few seconds.. then the Director springs into action. And turns him over

“O god, look at this guys neck, full of rashes. I think he has measeles”.

Meeting over.

I look at the ill guy, my unfounded irritation replaced with gratitude.
The woman who sat next to him who looked slutty seconds before looked like a conservative mother of three now.

How one man’s Hicky became another man’s measles.

“How things change in seconds…This could be the script of Tata Docomo” I think.
Meanwhile, nothing has changed. The meeting goes on.