On The Roof In The Rain

It's raining. There were a few things she found better other than rain. How you romance those little droplets is an art he'd often say.

His loving face swam up in her thoughts, setting aside the warmth of the tea cup she rose up and walked out of the shade into the pouring rain. The plants on their terrace danced, as if to welcome her - their colours now a shade more vibrant just like her heart.

And it poured.

Splattering over her smiling face, each second making her saree a shade darker than its real red. Taking off the pin of her bun, she ran her hand through the long traces, as they came undone. Slowly she was moving in a circle, on her heels, ensuring all of her being was washed, bathed. The pleats and swish of the palla made for a pretty picture.

She recalled where he'd stood clicking her pictures the last time she stood like this. He captured her feet amidst the pleats of the saree, splashing little droplets everywhere. His lens skirted up the dripping saree, hugging her tiny frame. He stopped at her waist - with drops of water slowing running in lines across the smooth skin to the edge where the blue of the saree was tucked. His breath stopped at the now exposed belly button beneath the sheer wet palla. Just as his mouth went dry she threw up her hands in the air, asking the heavens for more. At that he set the camera down, and walked out to her. His desire not quite different from her excitement over rain.

And it poured.

Over her dripping self, on his strong frame, moving in her direction. He took her outstretched hand, the closed eyes shoot open with gorgeous wet lashes looking down from the heavens into his. What she saw in there made her laugh vanish as a shy redness took over, flushing the wet cheeks.

With a swift movement that resulted in a lot of splatter around them, he had her pinned tight on himself, her tender wet back arched close on his strong chest. Her palla wrapped over their legs like the cocoon sheltering them from everything else. He hugged her tight, both their arms now around her with entwined fingers. She couldn't see his face, but from the warm breaths on her shoulders, knew they were close like they had seldom been before. She couldn't see his face, but knew his eyes would be clouding with anticipation, of old unfulfilled desire. They were lovers- but that was in another world- right now they were meeting as friends; for him to shoot her pictures on her famed terrace garden.

"This is inappropriate ... " she mumbled, He bent low to kiss her wet shoulders, warming it with his heat, sucking up all the droplets there. Did he not hear over the rumble of the clouds? His hands moved over her arms, reaching the dripping waistline. Goosebumps of anticipation made her shiver. The smell of the rain and his perfume together made her heady.

And it poured.

After a million drops had touched her face clean and they both were dripping wet - after what felt like an eternity he bent low kissing her shoulders. His arms tightened over hers, hugging her over the saree now sheer with rain. His kiss tasted the water off her bare shoulder, warming her skin under his hungry lips. He reached the shoulder blade slowly making to slip the neck line further, the pallu fell free in a splashing of more droplets. Warmth gushed up her with the finger drawing up a line on her arms against the sliding droplets. Feeling exposed, helplessly intoxicated and wanting to get all of his warmth, she turned, into his chest. The raindrops from his hair splattering upon her heaving bossom. The darkening cloud around his eyes told her there was no stopping anymore.

They stood kissing. A deep, demanding kiss from the broken hearts of long lost lovers.

The clouds above growled their consent and the rain picked up pace. Hugging each other they made way for the shelter and solitude of the walls. They were inside the shade now, the floor wet with footsteps and the trail of her almost undone pallu. One could almost feel them healing but not hear their hearts breaking all over again. Oh the fragility of the day together on the roof. Holding her face under the dripping mane of hair, he kissed her his most passionate kiss yet, the other hand tugging the palla and wet mass of her saree. Her fingers fumblingly undid his buttons, struggling with each others the wet clothes, they finally embraced their naked selves. Neither felt shy the way they should have, what with having run this scene so many times in their heads. The warmth of his palms wiping off rain drops from her skin onto the couch. She was in heat now, the nips as taught as his erection. His touch made her arch losing herself under his fingers. Her arousal his cue to continue. Soon the touch turned into a groping frenzy. She opened herself to all of him. She felt his heat enter her wetness, briefly rubbing across her points of pleasure. As a moan escaped her and she closed her eyes, he repeated the movement, throbbing, thrusting inside her. Each time a little harder. Their rhythm was now a fast hungry hunt for release. The rain became the loudest as if to cover their moans as together they came, in a frenzy of many heavy breaths they dug into each other, exhausted; terrified to let go of that frail moment of togetherness.

And now it poured, It had poured the loudest ever then she recalled.

A car was pulling up outside the house, the dying engine killing her thoughts of that warm face. She should hurry - dry up & be downstairs. The husband would know exactly who she's reminded of on the roof in the rain.