SS: Dear Diary... Part 14 Upd 11/30 Pg 66 - Page 33

Originally posted by: -nirvana-

Do I dare to ask for 10? ;)

Originally posted by: 6thElement

You sure can...Hopefully this glass of Merlot will let me write something that I have been trying all day.

Originally posted by: -nirvana-

In the name of Merlot ...😉

A man asked a waiter to take a bottle of Merlot to an attractive woman sitting alone at a table in a cozy little restaurant. So the waiter took the Merlot to the woman and said,'This is from the gentleman who is seated over there.' and indicated the sender with a nod of his head.

She stared at the wine coolly for a few seconds, not looking at the man, then decided to send a reply to him by a note. The waiter, who was lingering nearby for a response, took the note from her and conveyed it to the gentleman.

The note read: 'For me to accept this bottle, you need to have a Mercedes in your garage, a million dollars in the bank and 7 inches in your pants'.

After reading the note, the man decided to compose one of his own in return. He folded the note, handed it to the waiter and instructed him to deliver it to the lady.

It read: 'Just to let you know things aren't always what they appear to be, I have a Ferrari Maranello, BMW Z8, Mercedes CL600, and a Porsche Turbo in my several garages; I have beautiful homes in Aspen, Miami and a 10,000 acre ranch in Louisiana. There is over twenty million dollars in my bank account and portfolio.

But, not even for a woman as beautiful as you are, would I cut off three inches. Just send the bottle back.' 😆

Originally posted by: -nirvana-

^ I guess a glass of Merlot did do it's part...😆

She ran out of the room, bunching her sari and hugging it to her chest, after her aanchal fell off her shoulder in that weak moment when the lights had come on highlighting the folly she'd been about to commit. The night veil had cast an enchanting dream over her eyes in those moments of heightened frenzy and his arresting hold had taken a little more than her arms into his control. For a moment there, it had been soothing not to think for herself, being led not by sight or sound, but swirling emotions that swept away her mindfulness, disapprovingly invoked by his languid, deliberate touch.

She came to a sudden halt on the hallway leading to her room, recollecting how close her lips had lingered close to his. Leaning back on the wall, her eyes shut tight embracing the bygone moment, suddenly feeling him all over her body; once again her senses feeding into the memory making it that much more alive on her skin. Kissing her husband should never have been an issue, only she was unable to face the other fact that she was his wife.

Oddly the much feared hours of darkness had passed without a trace and the dawn kissed light twiddled its way into her room, waking her to a wet morning with sullen rain clouds that hovered over the horizon; the air still dense with the scent of grass and earth as that of the last evening.

She quickly showered and left for the kitchen, where her routine began and ended before he could ever make it to the table for breakfast; although, her charades required that Nakul be present around the house all the time. He'd conveniently assumed that she never had a role in the daily chores that involved him and she'd made it a point to keep up with the presumption. However, she couldn't be entirely sure her act was going to last any longer for Nakul was nowhere to be found. And with the reckoning a bead of sweat trickled down her forehead, as she discovered that every other help she could count on had disappeared into thin air, just as Nakul had.

"Hai...babaji...where have you folks gone?" She sniveled with a long face and made her way to his room. Something about finding him still stretched on the bed, hugging a crushed pulled to his chest and one knee raised in the air, told her he wasn't going to make it any easier for her. Once again, taking her babaji's name she stepped past the bedroom door.

"Nakul..." Her hand rose to her shoulder, her thumb pointing backwards "Do you know where they have gone?"

"I can't hear you...my ears are blocked from the cold, remember?" He said tauntingly, turning in profile and choose to stay in bed, while he looked far from being sick. He blinked, momentarily losing his way around words, taking in her purplish pink sari that hugged her willowy body, the wet white towel that roped into her hair and twisted into a makeshift bun resting on her shoulder; her nervousness that evoked a thrumming energy in her posture, adding to her sublime beauty.

Though she'd run from him the previous night, he liked to believe that she was in search of reasons to come look for him. Despite being aware that she was yet to find out about Nakul's weeklong vacation, it was utterly silly even for him to make something of her entry into his bedroom, as anything but to clear the air around the disappeared servants at home. Think what anyone may, he was convinced that her goal for every waking day was to find ways to cross paths with him.

She took small steps towards his bed, but was wary to stay out of his arm length "I don't see anyone at home..." She said, not quite meeting his eyes.

"Nakul and everyone else have been asking to go on a vacation for a long time...So I asked them take the week off" A sly smile spilled from his lips, while she looked up from the floor with seething anger.

"But you didn't ask me..." She stopped, catching her slip "Now who is going to get everything done at home"

"You..." He sat up and she stepped back "Just like every other day"

"I don't know what you are talking about" She said, shrugging coolly, not doubting Nakul even for a moment there.

He got to his feet with a lazy yawn and threw his arms up for a long stretch. Pretending not having heard her, he poked a finger into his ear and wiggled it to her annoyance.

"I don't know who has been feeding you all this false information..." He remained passive to her remark and folded his arms, his eyes fixed on hers with such intent that she began growing uncomfortable in her own skin.

"I'm not used to doing house hold work..." She moved to a decisive stance and folded her arms as well. "Since you decided to give them off, you can take care of the house too" After which, she strode out without waiting for his response.

An hour later, he showed up in the kitchen to find her unaffected and carelessly, albeit seductively lying on the couch in the family room, with a book held up to her face. He didn't care as much when she hadn't bothered to cook him breakfast, for he was too certain of the many facades she wore by then. Bending down to pick up a cast iron pan, he began the tedious process of making fried eggs for breakfast. He knew she was watching his every move as certain as the air he was breathing then. And she proved him right, when she ran to him at once, upon hearing him hiss in pain, when he tried lifting the searing hot cast iron handle for cracking the egg.

"Can you please..." She was lost on making sure he hadn't burnt his palm off while he feasted on the nearness that the moment brought about. How sinfully satisfying it was for things to happen just the way he was counting for it to turn out?

"Ok..." She said letting go of his hand, after finally concluding that he didn't need first-aid "I will cook something" She spoke unsure about the commitment she'd just given.

He shrugged and was about to thank her for her offer, when she cut him off.

"You don't get to help...Or stand anywhere in the kitchen" It occurred to him that she perhaps watched too many soaps in her spare time, to count on mishaps and cute accidents to sizzle its way into something regretful. He was laughing, while she took a few steps and then abruptly turned again to face him.

"And I can only cook Indian, not your conti...whatever..." She again turned away with a dismissing wave of her hand.

"And haan...no talking...no playing your English FM with all those blaring drums...I need peace. If you want you can play some hindi songs...I don't mind" He shook his head disbelievingly at the number of rules she'd laid down for him in a matter of seconds. Mockingly placing his fingers over his mouth, he sat back and lifted the remote to the audio player in the far corner.

It took him some time to tune into a Hindi FM station, while she set to work, pulling all sorts of things from the fridge and cabinets. When he hit the frequency that played a familiar Bollywood tune, he gave it a rest and threw the remote back on the table.

Her bangles shook with the long striding moments, as she slid the boiled potato over the grater and the tune entered her ears as gentle as a peacock feather softly gliding over her ear, making her come to a stop while her body shook from a chilly shiver. She left the task at hand to knead the dough.

Her breaths paced up in equal measure as the song dropped to a silent melody, conjuring an image of stillness in her mind that froze her stance as she stood kneading the flour in a hard glass bowl; her body never more attuned to his gaze, felt a warmth descend down her back.

Unable to cope with the parallelism the song drew verse after verse from the night - which was nothing short of a shadow that chased her around in the light of day - she turned around in a flash and marched towards him. Seeing the agitation on her face, he was unable to keep up his relaxed stance: casually leaning far into the chair with his arms folded behind his head, feet up the table and swaying side to side with a tease, along with a slow, lazy, smile kicking up his lips.

"Can you not play such songs?" Her anger faltered, mumbling towards the end, just as she lately realized she'd given away the fact that the song bothered her, in turn implying that last night was afresh a memory as the present she was in.

He wanted to playfully indulge her. Cupping his ear with his left hand, narrowing down his eyes, he acted deaf to her words "Huh!"

"Can you find another station?" Her voice dropped to a request and he oddly obliged, despite having enjoyed tormenting her visually.

He was sure it was her unlucky day, for the next station that they stumbled upon had another one of those eerily mesmerizing love song playing on it, making her roll her eyes. He muffled another smile.

Suraj hua Maddam...Shaam dal ne lagaa...

"Next" She yelled, a mild frustration still ringing clear in her voice.

Teri meri meri teri prem kahani hain mushkil...

"Hey Baghwan..." She faked a cry looking up "No...not this one either..." She addressed to him later.

This time, she only had to turn around with a steely eyed gaze and his hand flew to the tune button instinctively. Between static and other English stations that he swept past, she managed to finish with the dough and moved onto the potatoes again that was needed for the paratha stuffing.

"I'm done Geet...I'm putting it on auto tune and let fate decide whatever it is you need to hear" He said, walking out of the room, hoping to find the newspaper by the mansion front door.

Finding herself alone in the room, she strangely didn't relax as expected and without warning, the same night she'd fallen into his arms wet and helpless flashed in her mind.

Meri khuli khuli laton ko suljhaaye

Her hand reached her hair, trying to push back the stubborn curl that forced itself onto her view, leaving bits of potato shreds tangled with it.

Tu apni ungliyon se main to hoon isi khwaahish mein

She gave out a loud sigh, trying to stay above the images that the song put in her head, cursing herself in the process for the silly old village girl that she was...for associating every detail of her life with him.

"Oh Babaji..." She cringed, holding both her hands to her chest in a tight fist. It broke her, not act on the signs that forced into the workings of her life, when she went looking for them all over, as a teenager.

Zara zara bahekta hai, mahekta hai

The song played on and when she remained still with her eyes closed, detesting herself for letting her be swayed by a foolish romantic song, she felt him close. She sensed his fingers tighten around her upper arm and turn her around. In seconds, his fingers were pulling something off her hair and her breath grew shallow fearing she would let her guard down if he continued to stay around. She refused to look at him; however a strained tear drop escaped her eye, telling him how vulnerable she felt that moment.

"If everything around you, stands to remind you of the one thing that you are running away from, then don't you think it's time you face it?"

Her eyes flickered open at his slow stoking whisper and he let her go, seeing for the first time the pain that consumed her whole.

good to see maan taking a step forward