MG FF: Forbidden Stranger Updated Part 20 pg 130 - Page 55

Originally posted by: megh_piyashi

loved it dear

Originally posted by: -Prithi-

nice part
pm me when you update it

Wonderful part...Loved their whole conversation...

Chapter Sixteen

"Don't you think it's odd that someone who loved her job, who was proud of it, just walked away from it without a word to anyone?"

Geet tapped her nails on the table. "A lot of the friendships you make in this business aren't long-term. Over the years, I've danced with at least hundred different girls, but I was really friends with maybe three or four. I remember faces, some names, but I don't stay in touch. I don't celebrate holidays with them. I don't know where they are or what they're doing. And I doubt they ever think of me and say wonder whatever happened to Geet'"

"But you said Samaira and Tasha were friends. Did Tasha keep in touch with Samaira after she left?"

Tiring of the slow, rhythmic tap, Geet stilled her fingers and called an image of Tasha to mind. As usual, Samaira was nearby. They danced together, partied together and had even, on one occasion, vacationed together. They'd gone to New Orleans for Mardi Gras and bought back enough tacky beads to go around.

Yeah, they'd been friends. But Tasha had been surprised by Samaira's leaving. She would have told me, she'd protested to Romeo when he'd told them Samaira had quit. She told me everything.

Geet had seen so many girls come and go that she'd long ago stopped being surprised. She'd worked more than a few clubs herself where she'd given notice as she walked out the door. She was an independent contractor. Notice was a courtesy, not a requirement.

But she'd never left ant friends behind without saying goodbye.

"I don't know if they stayed in touch, I'd guess no." she hesitated, nerves tightening, then asked, "Do you think something happened to Tasha?"

Maan's features were set in an even, give-nothing-away mask. "A nineteen year-old girl who loves her job walks away one night and never comes back? What do you think?"

Security was always a problem for strippers'less so at Rahul's clubs than elsewhere, but still a problem. A lot of girls used stage names and didn't give their personal information to anyone, not even the other dancers. Sometimes overeager customers decided to wait outside the club to have a one-on-one with a dancer in private. Some customers tried to buy addresses or even went so far as to follow a dancer home.

But neither Tasha nor Samaira had ever complained about trouble with a customer. Friendly or not, that was information they would have shared with the other girls.

They had merely done what countless dancers before them had'changed their minds and moved on without wasting time on goodbyes. The only difference was Maan, asking questions when no one else had been the least bit curious.

Had he been truthful when he'd said there was just something about Tasha? Had there really been someone similar in his own life, someone she reminded him of? Despite his denials, had he thought he could be the one to rescue her?

Or had he had something going on with her? A dancer and a bartender hooking up weren't uncommon. Granted, he was practically old enough to be Tasha's father, but that wasn't at all uncommon, either. He might even have admitted it if Geet hadn't put him on the defensive first by pointing out her age.

A shiver rocketed through her, and she pulled her jacket tighter. "I should probably go."

He stretched out one hand but didn't try to make contact with her. "We can change the subject if it making you uncomfortable."

"It's not the subject, it's you. Hundreds of dancers have walked away without goodbyes and never included those of us left behind in their new lives. The only difference is this time is that here you are, asking a lot of questions about a girl you say you hardly knew. If you hardly knew her, what the hell difference does it make?"

For a long time they stared, his gaze as steady as hers wasn't. Finally he broke it to look at the cheque and slide to his feet. Then he pulled a ten from his wallet. Laid it next to the cheque and gestured for her to rise. She did and headed for the door, for warmer temperatures and cleaner air and the security of her car only a few feet away.

As soon as they stepped outside, he spoke. "There was a girl'pretty, smart, brash. Her family didn't have much money and when her father died, they pretty much split up. She came here, looking for a job that would make life just a little bit easier, and wounded up onstage in a club. Just for one week, she said, but the money was better than she'd ever seen. She'd stay two weeks, save all her tips and then quit. Then it became a month, two months, until one day she just disappeared. No one knew ever what happened to her. Today she's been pretty much forgotten, by the people who knew her as a pretty, smart girl, by the family who didn't approve of what she was doing, by the dancers she worked with night after night at the club. Call me sentimental, but I think a person should be remembered by someone. She shouldn't have to pass through life and be forgotten as if she never existed."

"You remember," Geet said quietly. Had he dated the girl? Befriended her? No, wait, it was Copper Lake. He might have lied to, used and betrayed someone from the wrong side of town, but he wouldn't have been friends with her.

"I don't understand how a nineteen-year old girl can disappear and no one thinks anything of it."

"Haven't you ever wanted to change your life? To wake up living someplace else, doing something else, being someone else?"

"No...but there've been few times I wouldn't mind sending my brother off someplace else." He slanted her a look. "Have you?"

"Of course." Then, before she could stop it, the question was out. "Which brother?"

"Dev. The youngest. You can't imagine what a pain he was as a kid."

Oh, he was wrong there. She didn't have to imagine. She knew.

Rather than remember her experience with the youngest Khurana, she returned to his question. "Of course I want to change my life. But I chose to do it the old-fashioned way'going to school, getting a job, making myself over into a respectable member of the community. It's taken the better part of twelve years. Some people want quicker results. Samaira was sure that if she made it to Hollywood, some blockbuster producer was going to take one look and splash her face across a forty-foot screen. She never did any school plays or community theatre. She never took any acting or voice lessons. She wanted to be an overnight success. That's probably where she is'Hollywood'and she probably conned Tasha into joining her there."

Of that whole speech, he fixed on one brief comment. "You don't need that degree or that job to make you respectable. You're the most respectable woman I know next to my mother."

It wasn't the damn near schmaltzy words that got to her, or even the mention of Pammi, who was considered a saint by both the community and her sons for having raised them. God knows, the closest saint Geet had gotten was opposite. Taking your clothes off for strange men makes you the worst sinners, Geet. My daughter, the stripper, the sinner, the tempter of vile men.

And my mother, Geet thought, melodramatic and over-the-top.

Her sins aside, what got to her about Maan's statement was the sincerity in his voice, in his eyes. She knew it could be fake, just as she knew this wasn't. He believed what he said and so did she; it sent a shaky feeling through her. What did you do when a man paid you the greatest compliment you'd ever gotten? When he was living with a woman you admired and liked? When even talking with him made you feel as if you were betraying that woman?

"Thank you, Maan," she said softly. With that and a polite nod, she went to her car, undoing the lock as she approached.

He waited until she was about to slide behind the wheel to say. "I'll follow you home."

"You don't have to," she said automatically, but he waved her off and got into his own car, it was two forty-five in the morning, and he wanted to make sure she got home all right.

Oh, yeah, he could be a great hero. If he ever got interested.

Despite the light traffic, she drove the speed limit, ever conscious of his headlights three car lengths behind her. When she turned into her driveway, he pulled to the curb, shut off the engine and got out.

"You don't have to see me to the door." How long had it been since that had happened? A lifetime. She'd been young, naive as Naintara. But she'd grown up quickly.

"My brothers and I may be the spawn of Satan, but we're gentlemanly spawn."

She climbed the steps, unlocked and opened the door. Dancer was waiting on the other side, eager for a trip outside. Halfway down the steps, the dog paused; eyes even with Maan's, and gave him a look, then continued into the yard.

"At least she didn't pee on me," he joked.

"Yeah, that's always a good thing." Geet set her bag and purse on the floor inside the door, then turned back.

He still stood on the middle step, hands in his hip pockets, looking at her as if...she didn't know. Didn't want to know. Damn sure didn't want to know if she was looking back at him the same way.

The porch lights cast yellow-tinged light over the wicker, the paint floorboards and him while leaving her in shadow. He had some years on his face'no one would mistake him for being on the young side of thirty'but they'd been good years. He looked as if he'd never had a real care in the world.

Had never been poor. Had never been disowned be his family. Had never been called names too vile for any parent to use with their child. Had never worried about living alone and lonely.

Though he'd lived with Tej the philanderer. He'd been as disappointed in his father as she'd been in her mother. As her mother had been in her. He'd surely had his upsets, his failures. He didn't look it, though.

She wanted to be as carefree.

"Well..." Maan's voice was gravelly and low.

If this had been a date, he would have come onto the porch, would have tried to kiss his way inside the house and into her room.

If this had been a date, she would have let him.

But it wasn't a date and she was glad he kept his distance or she might be tempted to forget it. Might forget Naintara, too. Might try to tempt him.

"Thanks for the Coke," she said as Dancer trotted up the steps again, passing Maan without a glance.

"Thanks for the company." He backed down the steps and lifted one hand in a wave before spinning. "See you later."

She went inside, latching the screen door as he got in his car, locking the door as he drove away. The house felt empty with no one but Dancer to break the stillness. "Not that you aren't the best company in the world," she said aloud, giving the dog a scratch behind the ear. It was just that she felt...well, empty. She wanted friends. A boyfriend. Someday a husband and maybe even kids. None of those things had been priorities, she'd told Maan, and that was true. For twelve years, all she'd focused on was saving money, getting her degree and finding a job. Well, she had a nice chunk of change in mutual funds, plus a little play money in high-risk, high yields bonds. She had the degree and the job was hers, starting after Christmas.

Now she wanted a man. Someone else's man.

And unless she'd misjudged that look a few moments ago, there might be a chance she could have him. 😳

Precap: He bit the toothpick in half when she pulled off the top to reveal a bra that was enough to make a joke of the name... 😉

Please let me know how the part is

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Originally posted by: rsroopali

Originally posted by: maanujaanu

superb nd brilliant update

luved it

excellent update