Blind Date

Blind Date – Later that Evening

Eashwar and I met over coffee and cake.

When my flight out of Bangalore was delayed by 3 hours he invited me home, offering to make me some dinner. I wasn't in the mood for food, but I agreed.

The drive to Eashwar's house was quick in spite of it being rush-hour. I leaned back against the seat, reliving my fantasy, and let him handle the horrendous evening traffic without distraction.

Over and over again that scene played in my mind; I saw him behind my closed lids, leaning forward and rubbing his finger over my lips. "Food," I heard him whisper again, and saw his mouth twist in a smile as I licked my lips where he had touched them.

A slow fire started in the pit of my stomach.

"Behave, Tara," I told myself firmly. "There's nothing to it, for heaven's sake, it wasn't even a kiss!"

The boy was at least 10 years younger than I was; what on earth was I thinking of! He probably would be shocked if he knew the thoughts running through my head.

At a signal I turned my head to look at him. Eashwar was looking at me, smiling just a little. He lifted my right hand to his lips, and my eyes widened in shock when he bit softly on the pad of my fore-finger. He drew the tip of my finger into his mouth, teeth scraping against the skin. I jerked my hand away as if burned, and he laughed.

I curled my fingers into the palm of my hand, and tucked it between my legs. He laughed again when he saw that. The red turned to green, and the car moved ahead as he shifted gears.

"Damn you," I cursed him silently, "damn you. I'm not ready for this yet."

I squeezed my thighs together tightly and tried to ignore him, and the damp evidence of my arousal only inches away from my hand. This man was not going to be shocked by any thought of mine; his actions made that clear enough.

I turned to look out of the window, thankful now for the sound of the radio. I didn't have to talk.

I wanted Eashwar so badly but desire and fantasy were one thing, and making them reality was quite another. I needed this time to think if I was prepared to take the next step and make my fantasy real.

"Tara," Eashwar's voice intruded into my thoughts.

"Mmhmm?"

"What time's your meeting tomorrow?"

"11.30," I replied, "why?"

"Just curious," he answered. "Your presentation's ready?"

I said it was. He didn't say anything to that, and the rest of the drive was made in silence.

Eashwar lived in a small flat above his office. It was done in warm reds and browns and looked very welcoming in the dim light of the foyer.

"Welcome to my parlour," he said, with a mischievous grin. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable while I see what I can rustle up for dinner."

I fished my cell phone out of my handbag and tried the airline. I wanted to know for sure how much time I had before I had to leave. The number was busy.

I was in the bathroom freshening up when I heard my phone ring, and then the low murmur of Eashwar's voice. My faint twinge of annoyance that he had answered my phone turned to dismay when I walked out of the bedroom and he told me that the airline had called saying my flight was cancelled. I was booked instead on the next morning's first flight out to Chennai.

I dropped my handbag by a chair and sat down heavily. I was tired. I had been on my feet all day in class, training, and I just wanted a warm bath and bed. I was in no mood for delays and disappointments, and I was in no mood to go hunting for a hotel room at this late hour.

"You have a telephone directory Eashwar?" I asked. "I've got to find a hotel..."

"Stop right there," he interrupted, "Stay the night, won't you? I've got two bedrooms."

I hesitated. "Thank you baby," I said. "I really appreciate your offer but..."

Again he wouldn't let me finish.

"No, please," he pleaded. "Don't go. I'm sorry 'bout what happened in the car. I promise I won't touch you; you're safe with me."

I agreed to stay. I was just too tired to do anything else, and was grateful I wasn't out in that traffic, on my way to some strange hotel. It didn't take much urging either to get me to take a shower while eashwar went about his host duties. When I came out of the bathroom, I found some clothes laid out on the freshly made bed. I put on an old cotton t-shirt of his, and couldn't help laughing as I slipped on his sweatpants. They were ridiculously large for me; he was at least 6 inches taller than I was!

The lights in the living room were dimmed and the curtains drawn; there was soft music playing in the background. Eashwar was in the kitchen, barefooted, standing in front of the stove. His hair, not so neat now, was still damp from his shower and curled on the nape of his neck. He had changed into a black sleeveless vest and sweatpants similar to mine. He was also wearing a bright yellow apron; he looked delicious.

He turned around when he heard me walk in.

"Taste?" He offered a spoon with what looked like a marinara sauce in it. "Dinner's going to be very simple. I'm making some pasta. There's a salad in the fridge, and fruit if you'd like."

I stepped in closer to him, close enough to smell his soap-fresh skin. I forced myself to concentrate on the sauce, and took the spoon from his hands.

"Delicious," I whispered, "try some?"

I put the spoon to his lips, and watched with greedy eyes as his lips closed around it. He moved my hand and the spoon away, and licked a bit of sauce from the corner of his lips.

"Not bad," he smiled, "not bad at all, especially considering that it came from a jar less than 10 minutes ago!"

I laughed out loud, glad that he wasn't trying to pretend to be Mr. Perfect. I put the spoon down on the counter behind me and reached around Eashwar for the ties of the apron. I heard his sharp intake of breath.

"What are you doing." he whispered almost angrily, grabbing my hand. "Don't you know I'm having a hard time keeping my hands off you? Don't..."

"Shh..." I pressed a fingertip to his lips. "Don't say anything Eashwar. I want this too."

We stayed that way for a minute, looking into each other's eyes. My left hand was around his waist, at the small of his back, and he held my wrist tightly in his hand. We were just inches away from each other.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "I don't want you to do anything you're not sure you want."

"I'm sure." I replied. "I've been sure for some time now. Don't say anything. Please, let's just enjoy this."

I pulled the ties around his neck and waist loose, and threw the apron aside. I shut the burner off, and led him to the sofa in the living room. I wanted this man as I hadn't wanted anybody else in a long time, and wasn't going to let this evening which had been given to me be wasted.

I put a cushion against the arm of the sofa, and pushed him back against it. I leaned over him, my hair falling in a dark curtain around our faces. We smiled, both of us, anticipating out first intimate touch.

I don't know who made the first move, whether he held me by the back of my head and pulled me in closer or whether I moved in closer of my own will. It didn't matter really. All that mattered was that we were touching, kissing, touching.

I pressed little kisses over his eyes and on his temple. I kissed my way down the side of his face, his jaw, and came to rest on the corner of his lips. I heard him laugh softly, and then felt his fingers in my hair, holding me prisoner as he touched his lips to mine, small gentle kisses at first, then harder again and harder still, until my teeth pressed against the soft insides of my lips. I opened my mouth and welcomed the plunder of his tongue.