TERRIFIC!

    1

She was terrific, absolutely terrific in bed. Never ever before had I made so passionate love to a woman that could make me say such a categorical adjective about her. I vividly remember the first time we met. It was a long and craggy day. Or else, to say, just another wind-swept day for me in the office. I decamped by around nine pm after getting ritualistically jostled again by that stymied scoundrel, whom every victim in their every office term, the boss. By the time I arrived in the pub, it was already crammed with a pack of lousy numskulls like me. I could hardly find myself a place to snug in before I remarked a chair vacant next to her. While she was down the drain in conversation over the cell, I hot-footed and sat beside her. She was completely unaware of me sitting snugly to her and disdained my ubiety in the world just like my boss would do every time whenever I petitioned for leave.

I ordered Jack Daniels, my first and true love, a trait that I inherited from my drunken father. Mendel would approve of that. While I was waiting for the scotch, I could find it difficult not to glance at her. Her hair was ebony-black and it plunged over her shoulders. Her eyes were jade-green and mystically dreamy if you looked carefully into them for a while. Lips. Puffy. Perhaps Botox-boosted. A peerless skin, unblemished with a bronzed complexion. Deluging breasts and a tapered, slutty waist. She was a perfect cocktail on the bar menu. But all that was abject in front of her perfect maroon slip dress with the spaghetti strip casually revealing the raven camisole.

Yes! It was true; I had become fetish off late of women's dresses. I was posilutely convinced that in the end, it was the dress more than the aesthetics that makes a woman sultry enough to boil the testosterone in men. At least, that does to me.

A little later when my fetishism weakened, I realized that she was sniveling after hanging up the call. One would expect at this moment that it was me, the philanderer, who would have picked off the colloquy, legging-up her dispirited state. But it was she who turned towards me impetuously and said, "Excuse me, sorry for bothering you, but can you stay with me for as long as you are here? You see, my fiancé has just broken with me over the phone. I'm feeling very depressed. Three years of mad love; at least what I was deluded insanely of, and this is what I've got like the perfect retribution. If I remain alone then I shall harm myself. I've done similar in the past. Please! If you don't mind?"

I was smacked at that moment by her, not-on-the-cards proffer. After quickly bestirring myself, I replied, "Oh yes........why fucking not? Err...I mean, why not? The pleasure would be mine. So.....what's your name?"

And so, began our tête-a-tête which ended up in almost a dozen drinks till the wrap-up of the pub. While we were leaving, I realized that she was too drunk and discombobulated to go alone to her place and was about to ask her whether I should drop her safely. I was point-blanked for the second time that night when she clung on to my arm and petitioned, "Please take me with you to your place. I don't want to sleep alone tonight."

This time I retooled myself quicker than last time, courtesy of the five straight rounds of 'Jack the Ripper'. "Don't worry, I won't desert you," was my artistic reply while loosening her grip and swinging my arm comely over her bare shoulder. We reached my apartment at around one in the night. While we were entering the building, a bunch of street dogs followed us. Maybe they too were beguiled to the alluring goddess accompanying me. But our security guard was trenchant enough to shove them away. Once we were inside my apartment, she entwined me clamorously and said, "I love you. You have cared for me so much since evening without knowing me, whereas my fiancée for the last three years guttered me tonight for some raunchy bitch, he fucked for just three weeks. Now it is my turn to indemnify you. I am all yours for the night."