SS: Haq pg93 THE END - Page 17

Originally posted by: vaani21

😆 Moti Begum,that was humorous.

Nice Update!

Originally posted by: iiDona

curious bone. where is this flattery train headed? I know you want something

Originally posted by: precious-pie

for me nice as till now m jst confuse vth the plot

Originally posted by: vmpy

moti begum was really a fun to read.fantastic work.thanx for pm and continue soon.

Khookari

"I……" her mouth was searching for words in desperation. "I want to paint".

He asked her to repeat her words.

"I want to paint like you".

His grip loosened and she landed on the hard ground.

"Are you certain of the craft?"

"Yes", she answered not knowing what her response mean or how her action would shape their dynamic. Hoping it could not get worse than this, she let him take the lead.

He flung from cabinet to shelf, explaining where the equipment was, the canvasses, the pigments, the brushes like she was the guest and he had opened up his home.

"The saffron will look mighty with your complexion. Look at the crisp in that pink. Oh this coral is made for you. Thank heavens I found you".

He matched every shade against her skin, collecting most of them in a close to sacred plastic bag.

"I want to paint but not myself", she paused after every syllable trying not to disturb his mania.

"I know. I got too excited coming in here. You get four picks, a toolkit, some wooden pieces, nails and a cloth. Make your own canvass.

"But I".

"No painting before toiling".

"Shit, I respond to your beck and call withered master. What else do you want from me?"

"Right now? Sex…..I have not forgotten Moti Begum. You are my prey".

"Do you realize how ridiculous that name sounds? Why would some one want a fat lady hung on their living room walls?"

"Because that fat lady will be you".

"Rishabh, please".

He breathed in the pheromones on her neck, "I like it".

"I beg of you. I will do anything. Whatever you ask…"

"This or pose naked for me".

He starting taking off every article clothing that hugged his body. Ten seconds to doom 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4,…

"Have your way", she gestured to corner bed and lay like a lifeless vampire in a coffin. He galloped close behind.

His hands pressed hers down, his feet resting right between hers. His eyes stared into her soul, rather the hollow that once was a soul. She looked toward nothing particular, not crying, not laughing: expressionless. His hand crawled on her veins, a volt of fear came and went. She looked like she was asleep with eyes wide open, making the kind of sounds an injured puppy makes.

Her voice threatened to pull open his gut. He lifted his weight off from her and whispered, "I can't do it". He knocked over half a dozen pieces of furniture and left the room without an explanation. She lay still like he had left her, hardly breathing, hardly living.

Another sunrise, he had still not seen the face of the day. She brought him a bronze glass full of beverage. "It's khookari, numbs the pain", her hand touched his cheek as he examined the look and scent of the edible offering.

"How do I know it is not poisoned?"

"You want me to drink it? You know I will. Besides, I am the one who needs a pain reliever more than you".

"Take a sip", he turned the glass toward her.

She took a generous helping but, left enough for him to drink.

"Oh yeah, this is definitely better than the morning chaach".

"Isn't it? I told you your family doesn't know how to cook".

"Did you make this?"

"Yes, not that you care but, I have been in constant discomfort thanks to the imprints you left on me. Plus, I know you are not exactly on cloud nine either".

"How did you know?"

"Who likes to be cooped up in a basement on a sunny spring day?"

Her lips curved into something that was reminiscent of a smile yet, not exactly a sign of happiness. There was certainly no occasion to rejoice except a periodic sound of Rishabh enjoying his drink.

"What drug did you put in this?"

"Khookari, commit it to memory", she insisted he finish the rest of the liquid without another moan.

"Take that brush and paint what comes to mind".

"For real?"

"I don't kid. I also don't repeat myself".

"You also don't make up good dialogues".

"Madhu, do as I say".

By now, his words had more meaning than the face value. It was a sign of looming attack. He would push, kick, scream, yell, go bananas anytime now.

She picked up the red. The bloody red, the bloodier red, the death red, the murderous red, the calming sunset red, the petunia red, the red of her bruised arm, the red of her sindoor, the red of his rage and red fire of life. She picked up every shade of red she could find except for her laal sari that sat in a lone drawer witnessing her create art. She used not the brush but her hands, creating strokes on the canvas that captured Rishabh's attention longer than her curls ever could.

His hands touched her bare neck, a sensual touch.

"Stopitrishabh", she said in one breath stretching each phoneme to its capacity. "Your hands are wet".

He turned her around. The most gentle he'd ever been. His lips inches away from hers, "Can I kiss you right now?"

"Go for it", she closed her eyes awaiting his touch.

A/N: For those of you whose morality is on red alert aka my offended bunch, I urge you to hide your compasses at home. I will try not to sugar coat the truth and the above, in my mind, is the truth.

p.s. There is something you should know about my mind, it thinks the truth is subjective😉