Caution: Contains adult themes.

Her eyelids shot open. “Oh my God! You are hitting my stomach!”

He increased his speed like that of the battering ram of a bore-drilling machine.

She tightly shut her eyelids and dug her fingernails deeper into his biceps. “Yes! Yes! Ah… Yes!” Every muscle in her body tightened. “Oh God! Yes! Harder!” Her entire focus was on the hard, hot rod going in and out of her juicing pleasure centre. Something exploded down there. Every muscle in her body relaxed simultaneously. Her toes curled. She let go of the tight clutch of his arms. A tingle in her spine sent shivers all across her body. She exhaled as eyes slowly opened.

His face was a few inches away from hers. His wet lips snatched her lower lip and sucked. And sucked.

A giggle made its way through her mouth. He shot his head back in surprise.

She roped her arms around his well-muscled back, tightened her thighs that were caressing his ripped thighs, and interlocked her ankles ensuring he didn’t get too far away. As a smile crept across her face, she slowly swept her left arm downwards and grabbed his rounded rubber-hard buttock.

That put him at ease. He too smiled. His hard penis still inside her quivered. A trick of his. And he started again. Slowly this time.

She wanted to take a break but her body was receptive. And it felt just too good to stop.

***

The next morning, as she woke up the fatigue announced itself and she struggled to slide over onto her side. It had been only four days since the lockdown amid the oh-very-dangerous pandemic had been announced. She was struggling to recall the number of hours she and Sarvanand had spent outside of bed. The memory of clapping and banging plates in the balcony came back to her and so did the sweaty sexventure they had immediately after.

After a bit of effort, she propped her head over her open palm and elbowed onto the soft pillow with a repeating leaf and flower pattern cover. His naked form lay beside her and his chest puffed up and down in slow, sleepy breathing. Her eyes surveyed his body inch by inch.

It had been barely a month since they had met in the gym. He had approached her with a simple hi and a genuine smile. In just two days, they were making conversation about the latest trending Chirper topic. In a few more days, her motivations to get to the gym on time had increased. It was not long before she got what she had fantasized about in her lust-ridden dreamscape since then — him, unclothed, in the embrace of her arms.

Sarvanand’s head twitched and a fly on his nose flew away.

She smiled. He had demonstrated intellect and sensitivity towards her. On the first day of the lockdown she taught him how to wash the dishes and he had been doing so since. At least, the few times they needed it to be done. Yesterday, he had even decided to sweep and mop the house.

He turned over to his side. Morning sunlight jetting through the slits of the drawn beige coloured curtains lit up his face. His dark complexion could not eclipse his sharp features. Years of gym had sculpted his oh-damn-so-hot chiselled form. Even her roomie, Khushi, whom she had introduced to him at a bakery had drooled over him, despite maintaining two boyfriends. She had declared to Khushi that she was interested only in a fling right now. But in that moment, a thought naturally sprung up: could this be long-term?

Her eyes settled at the limp organ between his thighs. Wetness between her thighs was reflexive. She gently rubbed her fingers over it and the sack of balls below it. In a few moments, she felt it awaken.

“A very good morning,” he said with a smile splashed across his face.

***

It had been a bit over a week since they along with the entire nation had been in lockdown. As it inevitably happens, things slowed down a bit between them. A few other things started occupying them: Webflixing, Chirping, InstaPicing, MeTubing, cooking, putting his house in order, discussing all topics under the sun and so on. Also, like almost everyone on the planet, they were closely following updates of this dastardly virus threatening to sicken the planet.

That afternoon he suggested that they have egg curry, which of course she had to teach him to prepare.

In the kitchen, she bit into a small raw deep-red tomato and he was slicing the onions, when he rubbed his eyes and said, “You know, I have been thinking.” He blinked his eyes a few times more before finishing with the onions and starting with the tomatoes. “May be we should try something.”

She finished chewing. “Try what?” She took another bite.

“You know… “ He shrugged his shoulders while continuing with the tomatoes. “ …in bed.”

She arched her eyebrows as the left tip of her lips perked up. The half-bitten tomato could wait.

“Something new.” He started dicing the green chillies.

Relief breezed across her body as she realized that she wasn’t the only one feeling that things were getting boring. “Go on.”

He stole a glance of her seated on the black kitchen slab. “How about a roleplay?”

Her eyes widened and her lips curled into a complete smile. Hulk! How big would it be? Hrithik giving me a lapdance. Maybe forbidden cross-border romance like that of Tiger’s. Maybe that hot teacher from her college days. Bottling down the erupting thoughts, she flashed her upto-mischief smile. “Ok. What do you want?”

He stopped the chilli dicing, smiled broadly and locked eyes with hers. “Maybe… “ He returned his attention to the chillis and quickly finished them. He faced her again. “How about a secretary and boss thing, you know… ”

Her entire mindscape screeched to a sudden, jolting halt.

He put a tawa on the stove. “Something like, you want a promotion… “

The revulsion on her face must have been apparent for her remarked: “God! What?”

She glanced away. After a tad long pause, she managed to say, “I think my down days are coming,” and rubbed her tummy.

He approached her and gently rubbed her shoulder caps. “This stuff can obviously wait.” He returned to the stove and started as per her earlier recipe instructions. “Anyway, what did you think of — “

“Wait. I will be back. Bathroom.” She wanted to bolt out from there, but managed to slowly walk away. She shut herself in the bathroom and smacked her palms on her temples. He was one of those #MeToo monsters. She felt like a bucketful of cockroaches was emptied over her head. Her sister… Her mother… Memories locked down deep in her mind were threatening to quake out. She embraced herself and rubbed the sides of her arms. What part of a woman’s promotion and advancement screamed to men: ‘Come, fuck me?’ She suddenly realized that his hands had been all over her body. Every inch of it. A cleansing bath became urgent. She glanced at her shower and instantly remembered their ecstatic morning sex. She gulped a lump down her throat as a realization dawned: she had voluntarily chosen to be locked down with this monster. Opening the tap of the sink, she splashed some water on her face. She had to think of an escape. As the cool water ran down her plum cheeks, it hit her. A possible exit had already been unwittingly created.

She came out, grabbed her bottle-green duffel bag and maniacally stuffed all her clothes in it as if she was late to catch a train. She then snatched a towel and walked towards the kitchen. “Hey… I am really not feeling good. My pads are at my place. Can you drop me?” She started wiping her face lest should he read the emotions dancing on her face.

Once she was done drying herself, he pointed to the masalas twirling in the oil. “Let us have lunch at least? And also, hello! It is a lockdown.” He swirled the masalas. “There will be cops on the streets.”

Her facial features contorted. What part about not feeling well because of a coming period did he not understand. It instantly struck her: men aren’t burdened with bleeding over half their lives and they can never fathom the pains. She inhaled deeply. “It just… I cant explain.” Her eyes were now moist with tears. “Please drop me?”

He scanned her eyes. “Alright.” The tawa on the stove grabbed his attention. “Will this be okay? Can I resume once I am back?”

She couldn’t help smiling. “Yes.” She nodded.

In a few minutes, they were downstairs at his navy-blue hatchback car. Each passing minute strengthened the virus-like anguish that was conquering her entire mind like a pandemic. As he started driving, she turned on the car’s radio to avoid any conversation. Some news about CovIdiots roaming around not wearing masks was announced. Some ads followed. She hit the next button. Why couldn’t life come with a next button. The whole world would definitely want to just go to the next year. This whole year was infected. There was just so much awful —

“Hey, cops!” Sarvanand slowed the car as there were two cops, one of whom stood on the main road with his waving arm outstretched indicating to them to stop. Beyond him, there were two barricades placed in a zig-zag fashion.

No sooner had he stopped the car than he retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket and tied it around his face covering his nose and mouth. She dug into her purse and found a midnight blue chiffon stroll, which she used as her mask.

Sarvanand muted the car’s radio and lowered his window.

The cop slouched to the lowered window. The smell of gutka and paan assaulted her senses. He glanced at the empty back seat, then leered at her breasts for more-than-a-few seconds and then reluctantly looked upon Sarvanand. The rage that she had kept a lid on went off in her head like the whistle of a pressure cooker. An oft-repeating angry thought joined that rage: Why did men everywhere ogle at a woman’s breasts? Even when talking to her directly?

“Sir, medical emergency.” Sarvanand said sheepishly pointing towards her. “Monthly thing.”

The cop backed his head away as if a sewer cover had been just opened.

Fuck you, you fat bald fuck.

He immediately waved them away.

Sarvanand pulled up the car-window and resumed their journey. She unmuted the car’s radio. Some news about Tablighi Jamaat blared out.

She lowered the window on her side. A pacing breeze brushed across her face and gently made its way through her shoulder-length hair fluffing them slightly. All shops were shuttered down. A stray dog in the distance perked its ears and looked intently at the approaching car. What did these dogs make of the sudden disappearance of human crowds? A supermarket grocery store came into sight. Few people were queued outside. All observing social distancing. All wearing masks. Her sight meandered to a few rogue clouds drifting across the brightly lit light blue sky.

“Shwetha, you know … ,“ said Sarvanand muting the radio.

She shot him a look of anger.

“Never mind.” He unmuted the radio and refocussed on the driving.

As if the veil of lust had been lifted, she noticed things that she had glossed over earlier. His ears were of an odd shape. He didnt have an entire beard — there were some tiny barren patches here and there. His biceps… She had to pluck her eyes away from them. This car. It was a small car. One that his parents had gifted to him. He had been working for over five years now, couldn’t he buy a bigger car?

The sight of her approaching apartments painted in cream and maroon made her shelve all those thoughts. She shoved the stroll back into her purse and buttoned it. Once there, she said, “Hey, stop here. I will go. You know this disease and all. People must be nervous.”

Sarvanand glanced at the moustached security guard at the gates who was staring at them feverishly. He nodded.

She exited her car and exhaled in relief. She was finally free of him. As she approached the flip-gate at the entrance, the guard pulled his head back and jostled for a cloth to cover his mouth and nose. It was the same guard who would often flash a warm smile on seeing her. Just a few days and this was the sea change in his reaction. Without getting too close to him, she pointed at the flip-gate.

“Madam.” He proceeded with caution. “No fever, na?”

She smiled as comfortingly as she could. “No. Completely healthy.”

He lowered the cloth and slowly, but surely, that same old warm smile crept onto his face. “Safe first, Madam,” he said as she walked away towards her building. The virus-like anguish stormed back. Once, she had caught that same guard’s gaze follow the subtly-bobbing ass of a woman wearing jeans. Is mine too being subjected to that? She quickened her pace.

Reaching her apartment, she unlocked it using her set of keys. A little further in and the unabashed moans of Khushi filled the air. She recollected that her boyfriend had decided to lockdown with her. She retrieved her mobile and texted her that she was home to avoid uncomfortable sights and situations. Once in her room, she flung the duffle bag and her purse on her bed covered with an orange bedsheet with black polo dots. Grabbing a towel, she ran into the bathroom for a shower.

As the cool waters hit her and cascaded downwards, she recollected her sister’s story. Office party. Bit too much to drink. Up for promotion. Her boss forcing herself… na raping her later that night. Next morning she receiving an email congratulating her on her promotion. She remembered how helplessly her sister had sobbed and sobbed. Her sister had dared to share it only when the #MeToo trend had drawn the world’s attention to one of the diseases that had been afflicting women for ages. But what she remembered most was the lost look in her mother’s eyes. It wasn’t just the empathy of a mother comforting her child, but the definite look of someone reliving… a similar torture. Of course, she never asked her mother, she had just assumed. But, a woman can read the unsaid trauma being told by the eyes of another woman. The most horrifying aspect was that it was not just an event from her sister’s life. It could be an event waiting to happen to her in the future. Will there ever be a vaccine against patriarchy’s virulence!

After a long bath and still struggling to lockdown her furious thoughts, she came out. She texted Khushi that she needed to talk. She dug into the drawer of her mirror, pulled out her blower and started drying her hair. She glanced at the make-up box lying idly. A bit of this and a dash of that had always elevated her spirits. Khushi’s reply popped up on her phone: In the evening, during tea? She replied with the thumbs up emoji and suddenly remembered having purchased a nail paint a few days ago. She smiled.

After a short while, she felt a little relaxed and decided to do some Chirping. One of the trending news items was ‘rise in domestic violence cases’ and the angst resurfaced. She thought of texting Khushi for she was desperate for another ear, but remembering her roomie’s moans from earlier, she decided against it. For now, she had to battle her blues herself.

***

In the evening, Khushi’s text came as welcome relief from her dampening musings: Mahesh is sleeping. Come out. Let’s make tea.

Shwetha opened her door and was met with Khushi’s dimpled-million-volt smile. Maybe her agony was writ all over her wheat-complexioned face, for Khushi hugged her. Breaking the embrace and with a nod of her head, Khushi beckoned her to the kitchen.

While Khushi set out to making ginger-tea, Shwetha narrated the incident from the morning. She left out the parts about her sister and mother in the interest of her family’s privacy.

Khushi’s mobile sounded a notification. Simming the stove, she took it and wrinkled her nose. “Bloody bhakt trolls.” Glancing at Shwetha, she continued, “I posted that everyone is calling this Jamaat thing a super-spreader without knowing all the facts, which is just blowing things out of proportion.” She clicked a few times on her phone and returned her attention to the tea. “There. Muted the idiot. And you were saying.”

Shwetha began sharing some of the negativity gnawing at her, when Khushi’s open palm put up as a stop signal made her pause.

“So, that’s it?” Khushi switched off the stove and proceeded to serve the tea. “He said something?” She shook her head in disbelief. “That’s all?”

“Yeah. But — “

“Oh, come on, girl! Look at you.” She handed Shwetha a tea cup. “All worked up! I thought something had happened!”

A calmness cooled her heart. Yes, nothing had happened!

“Don’t you think you are over-reacting?” Khushi snatched a chips packet from a rack and gestured with her eyes towards the living room. “It is like the epic over-reaction for this pandemic. Lockdowns. Quarantines… “

Shwetha shot a glare at Khushi, which was code for ‘don’t get philosophical with me right now.’ Khushi flashed a sheepish smile. Once at the glass-top dining table, they pulled out their chairs and settled in.

Shwetha sipped the tea. Ginger-flavour cajoled her taste buds. “It is not an over-reaction. I mean… you know the virus is there… isn’t… isn’t prevention better than cure?”

Khushi’s eyes widened as her eyebrows perked which was code for ‘want me to get started?’ Shwetha smiled sheepishly and said, “Anyway, what should I do?”

Khushi put down the cup on the table and laughed. A hearty laugh. “What to do?” she managed in the middle of her laughing. An embarrassed Shwetha shoved a few chips into her mouth.

Khushi’s laughter fizzled down after a few moments. “Alright, so, let me summarise for you. You were having a bombastic time until he said something that turned you off completely. Shut you down. Made you bolt away.” Khushi took a quick sip of tea and eyed the chips packet. “Look at the bright side. You got the best part of the deal, nothing awful actually happened, and now you are away and safe.” She dug a few chips out and munched them.

Shwetha’s relief kept increasing with every passing minute. True that nothing had happened. However, it was the prospect of danger. Maybe she was overreacting. Maybe she wasn’t…

“For now, just lock down this misery. And throw away the key.” Khushi sipped her tea and dug out the remaining chips.

Shwetha promptly took the advice. Attempting to change the topic, she said, “Hey, do we still have those Diwali diyas?”

*** The End ***

Image by Sumanley xulx from Pixabay