Desicritics Category: Culture: Romance

Sex Bloopers

Sakshi Juneja — Fri, 27 Jun 2008 10:26:06 EDT

Before your eyeballs pop out, let me rephrase this. Sex Bloopers that I’ve heard of from friends. And since it is always funner to have a laugh at someone else’s expense, here’s to all of them who’ve been there, done it, and wished they hadn’t. And if you’re one of those sorry asses (pun unintended) mentioned here, don’t fret. No names mentioned. I have a heart after all.

6. The damn zip. And belt. Now this one, I’ve been told by a lot of people. He wants to do it. She wants to do it. And they want to do it fast. But, they’re both wearing jazzy designer denims. And belts tied really really tight. Which take waaaaaay too much time to undo, unbuckle and unzip.

Result? Flagging… spirits of course… what did you think? Perverts! That’s why I say designer wear never gets you anywhere.

5. They were on an abnormally high single bed pushed up against the wall and were mostly rolling about in a sad imitation of a Hollywood flick, when the most un-filmi thing happened. One misjudged turn and Jack fell down (didn’t break his crown – thank God!), but Jill did come rolling after.

Talk about rollicking times!

4. Now this is a case of The First Time and the couple, being a set of enthu cutlets, was trying too many positions in one session. A lot of entangling of legs happened, and after all the pushing and pulling, the two found after much experimentation that sometimes, it’s best to keep it simple.

Too much josh and too little skill isn’t always healthy you see.

3. They were moving fast from first base to second and things were only getting hotter. Then, the girl farted. A dry, non-smelly one, but a fart nonetheless. The friend however wasn’t repelled or turned off, instead, he was really impressed with the way she handled the situation.

What did she do? She Laughed Out Loud.

2. Sloppy kissing. Now this one even I can vouch for. There are the kissers. Then there are the French kissers. So far so good. Then, come the sharks, whose sole purpose in life seems to want to..

a) drown you in their saliva
b) chomp on everything that comes in their way: lips, chin, nose… teeth.
c) be a pain in the neck, literally.
d) muck up your hair, as if they’re searching for shrimps.

Moral of the story: Don’t even think about going second base with these buggers, coz hickeys are certainly not their cup of tea.

And finally, (enter at your own risk)…

1. Man wants to be macho. So he lifts woman up, and with her legs wrapped around him, takes her to the kitchen. Pleased with the do so far, he decides to take his machismo up a few notches and thinks to himself, “I’ll ‘have’ her on the kitchen counter.” Silly silly macho man, who doesn’t account for the pots and pans. Up he pushes her, and bam! She hits her head on a wok… and passes out.

Reality check: Mills and Boons (acts) are best left to the books.

You got something to share (of course I’m referring to your "friends" stories)? Let’s spread the love (and all the effort it takes) around!

Book Review: Quondam by Jayel Gibson

Deepti Lamba — Mon, 2 Jun 2008 02:10:02 EDT

Avid video gamers tend to gravitate towards story lines that are action packed, are believable or as such bring strong magical realism to the games. Movies based on games such as Lara Croft, Resident Evil etc have been box office hits. The influence of video gaming has not only heavily influenced contemporary literature especially in the Scifi and Magic genres but have also reflected the strong feminist presence in modern times.

Take for example Jayel Gibson's book, Quondam which happens to be the last of the four part The Ancient Mirror Series. It has strong female characters. The main character Cwen finds herself falling through a portal to a world devastated by the cruelty of a nymph of the woods who is cursed to live in the flesh and becomes a cruel queen driven to destroy magic and extends her rule over mankind and only through Cwen can the world be saved. A lot rides on her shoulders and the other female characters in the novel are as strong in Cwen in spirit and in magic.

The feminist tone in the book is as strong as it is in the gaming world where the women fight shoulder to shoulder with their male warriors. And like the characters in video games the women in Jayel Gibson's book are beautiful, feminine and yet burn with fierce inner spirit.

What makes this book a novelty is that Jayel Gibson is herself a gamer and believes that video gaming is actually good for people. And her books prove her opinion as the characters are complex, their missions difficult and the storyline is action packed. The books are immersing and deal with human frailties as well which not only hooks the readers but also lend the story lines credibility for in the end its not only about good winning over evil but about the indomitable human spirit - a concept that many games are based on where one continues to try and overcome hurdles and conquer missions despite repeated failures.

Jayel Gibson's novels are well written, refreshing and are light reads. For more information on the books visit: Wix.com

Fiction: A Love Like No Other

Deepti Lamba — Mon, 19 May 2008 14:35:24 EDT

I've always loved her, been by her side and her loving has never changed. Its always been a mutual give and take. Though the giving has been more from my side than hers. Being a creature of the world she can never be completely mine.

Lying in her warm bed, I've watched over her while she's slept, watched her leave me without a parting word, in moments of sorrow and happiness I've always been there; my loving has been selfless in its make. There is no denying she is my all and I accept the little bits of herself she is willing to share with me.

In her own way she is sweet. She takes care of me and has never let me down but my heart breaks at the thought that her loving isn't all mine. She isn't and will never be my soulmate. In my forgotten corner I lie - the king of my home and yet a stranger loved and easily forgotten.

I wait for her to return, to caress me, to remind me that she is home. I wait for her to remember that I offer her sanctuary and love like no other can offer. But everyday she leaves me for others and I wait in deepening sorrow. I am the silent soul of her home, the companion with whiskers and tail.

Would she miss me when I am dead and gone? I stare at the door, waiting for the key to turn in the lock and for her to walk and say, I am home baby!!

Dedicated to my silent companions, Kensei and Zoey

Fiction: Sensual Romance

Kiran Dhanwada — Mon, 12 May 2008 00:53:46 EDT

Amit landed in Delhi after a 3 month trip to Singapore.

Avantika was eagerly awaiting him.

Their affair was on for 3 years. They both had passed out of college barely knowing each other. However, in a chance meeting (happened to be a common friend’s birthday party) they happened to hit on each other extremely well and from thereon, their relationship was going only one way – up.

Amit was an architect and Avantika was a fashion designer. The diversity in their professions made their relationship even more spicier and interesting. They both had decided that unless both of them had settled professionally, they would not get married to each other. They stuck to their promise – and their parents now had mutually agreed on their marriage one year hence.

Amit had left for Singapore on an office trip. Since the time of their engagement, they could not keep hands off each other – and 3 months was a long time. When Avantika spotted Amit coming out of the airport - tears of emotion overflowing, she rushed and hugged him - unmindful of the surroundings. Words could not convey their relief - they looked in each other’s eyes and smiled. They quickly went back home in a taxi.

When Avantika closed the door of her empty house, Amit immediately hugged her from behind. She could feel his tremble – tremble, due to separation for what seemed a long time for both of them. She let him rest in that posture for a few minutes. Amit murmured ‘Missed you big time’. Avantika turned around and gave him a wide flashing smile. He captured that moment and immediately hugged her tightly, landing kisses all over her face and body. His kisses were like winter fire, slowly but surely wearing Avantika down. He started feeling the contours of her entire body gradually, sensing the laces, linen and her sweat little-by-little but intently. She too responded to his intense emotion – hugging him tightly and responding to his kisses. Time had no meaning at that moment, neither did the surroundings nor that they were still in the foyer of her place.

They made love.

They were lying on the bed, one on top of each other in their post-lovemaking stupor –which traversed the foyer, drawing room and subsequently the bedroom. Earlier, she had asked him what fruit she represented? He had replied ‘Watermelon of course’. ‘Why?’ ‘Ripe, juicy, edible and a fulfilling treat, that’s why!’ She had liked the description. She had always liked his descriptions, barring a few of his crazy ones. They had made passionate love for the past hour or so and now were mumbling sweet nothings in each other’s ears.

She looked into his eyes and asked “Tell me, how much you love me?”

Amit gave her a surprised look.

She: I want to know.

He smiled - one of those wicked grins. She knew something crazy was coming up.

He: I love you as much as I love free lunch coupons.

She smirked.

He: Er…ok! I love you as much as Wooster loves Jeeves.

She: C’mon Amit, be serious!! Tellll me!!

He looked into her eyes, her hair all over him and said ‘Beautiful’. He wanted to express his love in terms that she loved the most – literature and music.

He: “As passionately as Howard Roark atop the University hill”

“As detailed as Tolkein’s Lord of the Rings”

“As flowingly as Somerset Maugham”

“As silently as a Shakspearean sonnet”

“As longing as a Wagner’s Opera”

“As much as the center of my life”

“And my dear, as madly and crazily as myself”

She looked into his eyes, smiled and said “You are a damn fool” and proceeded to kiss him. The pressure was perfect and the teasing just about there. A long, soft kiss and mercifully unlike the last one. She was drawn in closer to him – a moment she wanted to last forever.

Fiction: Why Mona Lisa Smiled

IdeaSmith — Mon, 5 May 2008 06:02:45 EDT

You are mine.

You are right.
But it doesn't feel like it.

Because you only have possession, not control.
Do you not want me?

I do. But not as much as I should. Not as much as I could. Not yet.
Does that matter?

You can own my body, my mind and even my emotions.
But until my will is you, you will never truly own me.

I don't wish to force you or bend you to my will.

Well-spoken, dear one. You are as wise as I have hoped.
And yet, I don't have you.

This is true as well.
Possession without control is but a cage.
And cages can be broken.

So can control. What I want is mastery.

They are not different.
Yes, they are, my sweet. You aspire to give me surrender, oh yes, you do. And it might be a sweet reward, especially to one starved for so long. But what I want is mastery. An abdication of the hunger for any more such delights.

You lie. Or perhaps not.
If you lie, this beginning is over. Rather, you misphrase.
You desire surrender as much as I do. But what we both need is release.

And you think the answer lies in postponement?

Well, indulgence hasn't worked, has it?
You've had others, then?

So I have. Did you think I would come to you unpracticed?
I suppose not. Even the beginning wouldn't have happened, then.

Right, I don't believe in spontaneous miracles.
And I am skeptical about love at first sight.

Cynical, chere! Give the mortals their flash miracles, it keeps them occupied. You and I have forever and beyond to negotiate.
It's just an illusion.

So am I. And you. A figment of the other's imagination.
That's not logical. You can't be illogical in this game.

But I'm not. When we cease to be our illusions, we cease to be. And what if we swap illusions, every now and then?
And what if we just ended this here?

If we do, we'll just be two people who killed the conversation and had great sex.
But if we don't, we continue to be you and me,
mutual enigmas, perpetual unquenched desire, the eternal emptiness.

Touche, my love and adieu.

I thought you didn't believe in love.
Not at first sight. Nor first conversation. But this is the end of our beginning. The first of whatever comes next.

Fiction: Love you Forever!

Kiran Dhanwada — Mon, 5 May 2008 01:19:03 EDT

She was distraught.

Everything had been wonderful two years ago. They had met through a common friend and the chemistry was instantaneous. Both of them loved similar books, movies and cuisines. They had long phone chats, often late into the night. The occasional touch had turned into a hug and then a kiss. He loved and adored her.

She loved him with all his heart. She cared for him and not an hour passed where she didn’t think of him. She felt very secure in his arms. The days at the office passed in a jiffy and both eagerly awaited the night - day after day, talking to each other throughout, unmindful of food or sleep.

One year later, things slowly began to fall apart. He had changed jobs and his new job took him to different countries each month. They were no longer spending as much time together. She could not reconcile herself to the fact that some nights would pass without speaking to him. However, he called, and called often. He told her about new experiences in different countries, the ugly and the beautiful and how he wished she was with him. He would bring her gifts from each country he visited. Their happiness knew no bounds when they saw each other at the airport each time. They were very much in love.

Love, however, has a tendency to fade - or that is what they say. One year since he changed jobs; she observed, much to her chagrin, that he had also changed. She wondered why the look for her in his eyes was so different, the warmth in his voice was missing and the tenderness of his touch had vanished. She couldn’t take the drastic changes that had happened in this relationship - she was totally distraught.

She couldn’t believe what she was going through. He made lame excuses whenever she wanted to meet him. Phone calls turned from often to periodic to seldom. He had hardly spared time for her over the past 6 months. She felt like a nobody. Sometime back, she had asked him ‘Are you going around with someone else?’. The question had freaked him. He shot back ‘Are you insane? What makes you think so?’.

She couldn’t bring herself to doubt him. Yet, he seemed so distant. She loved him - like no other, very deeply and passionately. She came back from the office every day and read the long and lovely letters he had written to her, e-mails and SMSes he had sent her - crying late into the night over them. Every word, every feeling resonated in her mind before she went off to sleep, only to be troubled by nightmares of him leaving her. She hadn’t slept properly for months now.

Deep depression, mental collapse - she had heard these terms in various books. Now, she was experiencing it. She missed him, when alone as well in the crowd. She also feared that she was getting paranoid about him. Maybe he was too busy with his work. Maybe the good times would be back again. Or, she shuddered to think - have I lost him forever?

Today, she had called him. She desperately wanted to meet him at her house. He readily agreed - not only to meet her, but have a candle-lit dinner too. She was on cloud nine. Again, everything seemed rosy and the air was brimming with life. She cleaned her house, her room, scented the whole house with the freshener he had got for her from Australia. She dressed in her best clothes and waited for him to knock the door.

As expected, he knocked on the door at 6' o clock. There he stood, with the same innocent smile and a twinkle in his eye that she had seen two years back. She was overjoyed. She hugged him and invited him into the house. She closed the door and hugged him again, whispering softly in his ears ‘You are mine, my love, forever mine’.

She was ecstatic. He was on her lap. She was rocking him like a cradle - to and fro, singing the songs he loved. He was staring intently at her large, round eyes - seemingly lost forever. She loved that look - his stare with his deep eyes into her. The smile on his face looked so calm and peaceful, but the only question he seemed to ask non-verbally was ‘Why?’ She smiled back at him and said ‘Now, I will love you forever’ - and smugly smiled at the blood-stained knife with which she had stabbed him to death.

The Magnificence of the Taj Mahal

Deepti Lamba — Sat, 3 May 2008 14:10:32 EDT

While standing in the long security check line outside the Taj entry we burned in the shimmering spring heat last month.

Agra is a couple of degrees hotter than Delhi. The line of human beings barely moved and tempers flared when people tried to jump ahead in the queue. I berated myself for not getting my tots sun hats and covered their heads with handkerchiefs. The heat was getting to all of us and I wondered out loud as to how many of us would suffer from sunstroke that afternoon.

I grumbled whether the Taj was far more important than our collective health. To which my mother replied, "Not only is the Taj more important than our health but even our lives!!"

I was shocked but she explained that such buildings are monuments of posterity that we bequeath to our children and so on. Our life span is short compared to the Taj, and the happiness it brings to thousands year after year, decades and centuries later continue.

Since my mom is a history reader at Delhi University I did not have the heart to debate with her knowing her bias for all that is historical but once I feasted my eyes on the Taj my need to protest disappeared.

I felt a surge of happiness sweep through my heart. This was my third visit to the Taj and it still enthralls me. I grabbed my camera and clicked away like a tourist, all the while trying not to bump into people who in turn seemed to have become even-tempered.

There was no pushing at any of the entry or exit points, a water cooler had been provided at a certain point, the public loos were still dirty but the inner chambers of the Taj were cool.

People sat in the shadows of the Taj, kids ran around, there were foreigners and Indians from different states who enjoyed the beauty of the tomb. The Yamuna river was parched dry and thankfully the much despaired Taj Corridor by Mayawati a thing of the past.

Due to the mind-numbing heat and exhausted complaining children I wasn't able to take too many pictures but the monument left a lasting impression in my mind.

Book Review: Sundays at Tiffany's

Varun P — Thu, 1 May 2008 09:08:57 EDT

"I miss you already," Or so said Michael and now a few hours after finishing the book, I feel a similar longing in my heart: I am already missing James Patterson's Sundays at Tiffany's (co-written with Gabriel Charbonnet). Apart from Erich Segal's Love story and then Oliver's Story, no other romantic book has been able to capture my attention like this one. And what a splendid write-up this book was!

Now I associate James Patterson normally with novels centered around crime, mystery and serial killers. James Patterson has produced some awesome fictional characters - Alex Cross, The Women's Murder Club and the Maximum Ride series. So, this novel was a bit of a pleasant shocker for me. I mean, the romance genre is as far and as diverse as he could manage. Now, I am no romantic - the only romantic novels I ever read were Erich Segal's Love Story and Oliver's Story. Both of these were great novels, so simply, eloquently and emotionally written. Something told me that this novel might turn out to be just as good, despite romance not being the author's forte (at least, with the number of novels published in the serial killer and mystery genre, no one can question his knack for getting the chill across).

Getting back to the book, the story trails the life of a young girl whose world is built around an imaginary friend. Actually, saying that it trails the life of Jane is a bit of a misnomer -- The book is only about the aprt where Michael has to leave Jane when she turns 9 and then the second part deals with how Michael and Jane are reunited. However, nothing has been mentioned of the interim period when the imaginary friend leaves the young kid and by a quirky twist of fate, is reunited with the now grown-up girl Jane. I am actually thankful to the author for not dragging the book or making it too complicated. Besides Jane and Michael, there are only a handful of characters to deal with and with a crisp writing style, you can't just help but keep turning the pages one after another. Though readers may find the other characters quite stereotyped and atypical, it's the girl and her imaginary friend who grasp the attention of the readers from the start.

Most romantic novels have a happy ending yet after going through Eric Segal's Love Story and Oliver's Story, I know that happy endings are not a must. And with the way this book has been composed, it had a surreal feeling about it all throughout! And yet there is always the feleing that this was just the sweetener, somewhere somehow the author will lose the plot and make a mess of this fine love story. But credit to both the authors for maintaining, sustaining and ultimately delivering one of the most suspensefully joyful endings I've stumbled across!

I'll suggest all readers to try this book at least once; if not buy it then just go to the coffee shop at the bookstore and devote a spare hour to this novel. I am sure you'll be hooked to the novel and ultimately, just like me, you too will start missing the book once it's over!

N.B.: Just a word of caution: Do not go in expecting a lot of complicated stuff or a flood of emotions from the book, it's written very simply and hence it's imperative that you treat it like a simple book too! Try and feel the undercurrents of love flowing through the book. Though the authors could have tried harder and made the other characters feel a bit more real and wanted, I am nonetheless pleased with the book and yes, I've been missing it already! Sigh!

Fiction: An Internet Tale

Kiran Dhanwada — Thu, 1 May 2008 00:26:40 EDT

She was in Mumbai. He was in the US.

She sat in her bedroom in front of her age-old computer, twitching the end of her chunni endlessly.

He had just gotten up from sleep, visibly excited, switching on his laptop - revising one-liners, statements-that-a-girl-will-fall-for and opened the chat application.

They both were online now.

It all had happened by chance. Engineer-MBA guys were the flavor of the season and he was an Engineer-MBA. He wanted to marry an Engineer-girl. Their parents were looking out for matches - traditionally as well as online. During the course of searching through one of these online matrimonial websites, they found each other. Each one liked the other's profile (and necessarily, their parents' also liked each other's family background) and decided that they should communicate. Because of the distance involved (she in India and he in the US) - after exchange of few mails, decided that Internet chat would be the best option.

Today was the D-day.

They saw each other online.

(Lines in Italics are his/her internal thoughts. Others are the ones which they type on the chat application).

He: Should I ping her first? Or will she ping me first? Will I appear too eager if I ping her immediately? No, let me hold on till she pings me.

She: He is online right now, so why doesn't he ping me? Is he not interested in me? I guess being a guy he should take initiative. What will I do with such a non-initiative taking guy? Did I make a mistake?

After a 5 minute standoff, where each party is thinking why the other is not pinging, the guy loses his patience.

He: Hey! Hi.

She: Ufff, finally you dumbo! Hi.

He: I was just checking my mails till now. Didn't see you online?

She: Oh yeah, really! Kid someone else. Same here. Not an issue at all. Glad you pinged.

He: Isn't this chat a wee bit uncomfortable? It would have been better if we had met face to face.

She: Didn't know what to say and didn't want to look stupid. One trick she learnt over the years if she didn't know what to say, say - Heheh!

He: Ooohh!! She's funny too! Sense of humor. Good, Good. So...finished your dinner?

She: Ah! How boring? Anyways, let me continue. Yes. Finished it just now. How about you?

He: I just got up. So....

She: So...

He: Strange behavior lady. Take initiative somewhere. So, what do you like?

She: Like, like what?? Her mother had always taught her to keep the guy in suspense.

He: No, in general, hobbies like that, like that.

She: Ohhh...that!! My hobby is photography. I like reading books too. She always found it fashionable to say that her hobby was photography. Never mind she never had any expertise in it. Her hobby was photography simply because she had a cute digicam. Reading books - ahhh..she wanted to appear intellectual.

He: Ohh!! That is greattt. My hobby too is photography. In fact, I love photography. Reading books - ahh..not that much. But I love listening to music. Again, back in Engineering college and his MBA, he was awed by others because he mentioned photography as one of his hobbies (Later, when they came to know about his photographic skills - well, the matter took a different turn). He had also heard that mentioning the word 'photography' turns on many a lady.

She: Wow!! He too likes photography. I think I found the right guy in my life. What wavelength and frequency match. That is lovely!! So...what if I want to do higher studies? Is your family ok with it?

He: He was always told by his friends to appear progressive. All girls want to study after marriage - that was a rule rather than a exception. He didn't want to whine. She will study right...what the heck? No, no...not at all. In fact, my family would love a girl who is ambitious. They would be proud of having such a girl in the family.

She: Patting herself again that she found the right guy...so, what else??

He: So, what about cooking? Do you know cooking?? His friends had always taught him to add disclaimers when he asked such questions...No, not being a male chauvinist but asking in general!

She: Smiles...adding disclaimers too, he must be intelligent...I know cooking...not an expert though...will you help me? And she didn't want to upset him with the next line..so...And how about you? Will you help me with the cooking part....Heheh!

He: Oh..sense of humor again...good, good! Yes, yes. Sure. Will help you with cleaning dishes and washing clothes too. She wants me share everything already...yuhoo...I think this is a done deal.

She: And...how about wearing western clothes?

He: Progressive behavior was the order of the day...No, not an issue at all. Unless you decide to wear spaghettis and minis...hehe!

She: Good sense of humor...I like the guy! Heheh! No, no...I was just talking about jeans and t-shirt.

He: So...what kind of music do you like?

She: When in doubt, say A R Rahman! She was taught this cardinal rule repeatedly. Classical Indian was out-of-date. And Spice girls would sound outlandish. Conservative but good-taste - that was the mantra. Nothing really special, but I like A R Rahman.

She: Oops!! Music of A R Rahman....Heheh!

He: Nice timing of humor again...I really like the girl! A R Rahman...Conservative and good taste. Good, good. I like Backstreet boys and A R Rahman too....wanted to sound macho as well as force himself to like her taste...agreeing with the lady was a big plus - he was told.

She: Wavelength and Frequency match again! She was beginning to like it. So...how about food habits? Non-veg, Smoking, Drinking etc etc. You know typical habits..Heheh!

He: Enquring ability...nice trait of a lady! Good, Good!! No, No, No...I am a vegetarian with no smoking and drinking habits. How about you? Not that I am questioning you...but still would like to know more about you - He was told the line 'to know more about you' was very satisfying on a lady's mind. It helped soothe all her fears and anxiety...in fact, it was a big plus for any guy who asked that question.

She: What a gracious way of asking the question!! Now, I really like the guy. He wants to know more about me - good good sign J Nope, am a vegetarian too...with no smoking and drinking habits.

He: Good, Good. So...what else?

She: You tell.

He: So...do you like me?

She: Hmmm...let me think ;)

He: Was that a YES?

She: Ahhh...I never said that...Did I? She was taught never to say YES directly in such matters - it looked too arrogant. In fact, not saying a YES was more ladylike and guys liked it - she was told by her marriageable friends.

He: Should I ask my parents to proceed?

She: Aren't we supposed to proceed? Heheh!

He: Good sense of humor again. She is the girl I want to marry!! Yes, we will proceed. I will talk to my parents to talk to your parents.

She: Ok! Hope to talk to you at length after you come to India.

He: Of course, of course! Can I call you now?

She: Nope, not so soon! Heheh! Shall we meet same time tomorrow online?

He: Sure, I am already waiting for tomorrow to come.

She: Heheh!

With that, he closed the chat window. She had good sense of humor, could cook okish - what else did he need in life?

She too closed the chat window - He was gracious, although he was slightly boring - which I can change after our marriage, his hobby too was photography. What else does she need in life?

She smiled off to sleep. He decided to enrol in the gym. And the proceedings began.

Fiction: Blind Date

Deepti Lamba — Wed, 30 Apr 2008 03:30:05 EDT

"I don't watch cricket but I did take notice of the cheerleader thingie."

Thingie? She was a petite creature with sharp features and a complete dud in the brains department. He couldn't imagine marrying her and wondered what Atish thought trying to sync them up.

She was more the 'hook up' type than the 'sync up' type. He smiled at the cheeky thought.

"So what did you think of the cheerleader thingie?" he mimicked her and stressed slightly on the word - thingie.

The emphasis was lost on her. She began her pseudo-feminist tirade against female exhibitionism and he imagined taking off her clothes.

What would it be first? The polka dotted blouse or the diamond loops in her ears? They seemed to be expensive rocks. The rock in his pants lost its budding rigidity at the monetary difference between them. He couldn't maintain a trophy wife; what was the use of imagining her naked?

She was dumb and rich. He was a geek and poor. What was Atish thinking?! He wondered again.

There was an expectant air around her. She had stopped speaking he realized and seemed to have asked him a question which he hadn't heard.

He felt a little sheepish.

"I didn't quite catch the question."

Anger flashed in her eyes. She probably thought he was a dumb ass. He was beginning to enjoy the fiasco of a blind date.

"I asked what kind of clothes do you like women to wear."

He ran a quick eye over her tight short clothes and again imagined taking them off. He liked the tight skirt that showed quite a bit of the creamy legs. He ignored the diamonds- they dampened his spirits.

"I don’t care what women wear. I like them in and out of clothes."

She looked furious. Her finely done eyebrows had somehow trekked all the way up to her forehead, her eyes glared and she seemed to hyper ventilate.

"You are so sexist."

"And you are so-" He didn't finish his sentence and relaxed against the leather cushion covering the booth. It was early evening and the music was still relatively kept low. Thankfully it was happy hours and he could pay for her Margaritas.

"I am so what?" You men are such MCPs and..." He stopped listening to her and found himself staring at her lips. They were full, lusciously painted bright red and he knew where he would put those lips to work on his body.

He shifted a bit on the booth. She was making him uncomfortable for all the wrong reasons.

"I am what I am. I like all types of women- be they- fat, thin, skanky, innocent, dumb, intelligent, hairy, airy, smooth, bumpy. I have no preferences, seriously."

Instead of calming her down his words inflamed her.

"Not only are you a sexist MCP but a jerk as well.” She leaned over and hissed at him.

Her blouse let him have more than a peek at her cleavage and he saw a lacy skin colored bra. He, too was in ‘flames’.

“Why am I a jerk? All I said is that I liked women. What’s wrong in that? Don’t you like men? Or is it women you are into?”

“If I was into women would I be here talking to you?” her volume rose as she tried to be heard over the trance music that had suddenly become louder. The sun had set; the party mood was in the air. He wanted to have a private party with her- sadly enough TGIF didn’t have Champagne rooms.

He pushed her barely tasted Margarita towards her.

“I don’t know what Atish thought setting us up like this.” She worded what he had initially thought.

He sipped his non alcoholic Iced Tea. He knew exactly what Atish had thought. She was so exasperatingly, annoyingly hot that he had to have her.

“What’s your phone number?” he asked abruptly.

“You have got to be kidding me.” She was beyond furious if that was possible and in his mind he was already doing her.

She slid out of her side of the booth and stalked off.

He watched her tight butt that was leaving the bar and speed dialed his best friend Atish.

He spoke into the cellphone

“Dude, I think I'm in love.”