His phone pinged a notification when the picture of the pussy arrived in his inbox. Mohan Krishnagiri groaned, then opened one eye and then the other before reaching a hand to the bedside table, he pulled the phone towards him. An action he performed with the delicacy of plucking a flower. It showed both his love and respect for the mobile phone- a device which he considered as nothing short of miraculous- a gift from God which he sometimes wondered humans were worthy of.
He had ditched the password screenlock the other day- after all, only he used his phone. So, he went straight to his email inbox and clicked open the mail from Alvika. EVen though the attached JPG had a random number for a name, he could tell what it was even before he downloaded and opened it.
"How does it look?" was the subject line.
He smiled on seeing the pussy. The sleep which clung to him like a tenacious wife just a moment ago dissipated instantly. He sat up in bed and went to Whatsapp and typed out a reply. "Looks wonderful, but I think it would have been even better with my name tattoed on it."
A few seconds later, he got a reply from Alvika. "Ayyo, Tatto would hurt there! But I am glad that you like it that I shaved."
"I couldn't have known it was shaved," he replied. "I mean, for all I know, this is its natural state. Maybe, you have some condition that prevents hair growth on your pubic region."
"Ha,ha,ha, very funny."
He smiled then, rolled over on the bed. "What are you wearing now?"
"A brown blazer, white shirt and a pair of black pants" came her reply. "I have a client meeting today. I am at work."
"But the picture?"
"Oh, I just went to the ladies for a quick pee. That's when I thought about you:) Den, I took that pic and sent it to you." After a moment, another message arrived on his phone. This one a question. "What about you? You in office? Are you showing my private pic to your male colleagues, you perv!" She appended this with a series of smiles to show she meant it as a joke.
"I called in sick today,"
"Oh, wat hapnd?"
"Nothing. I am completely fine. I just woke up feeling like I shouldn't go to work. I felt bored with it all. This endless routine, of working and coming home and going to work again, and in between buying stuff, ad infinitum. Makes me wonder what it is all about."
"Looks like someone is not getting enough action in bed," she replied. "Tell that pretty wife of yours to do her womanly duty and dance like a stripper!"
"I keep telling you, my wife is not pretty in the conventional sense. She may be handsome, but not pretty. And certainly notg as pretty as you."
"But you don't even know how I look!"
"I know how your pussy looks now," he said.
"But that's not me. That's like saying your dick is u. That u are a dick. LOL"
"That gives me an idea," he said. He then rolled right over again, so that he was lying face up. He then pushed his trainers down and clicked a picture of his manhood which he then sent her, along with the message, "If you want it, come and get it."
"Nice pic," she said. "But I am afraid I will need to take a raincheck on it. As I said, I have a client meeting to attend."
"Is the client hot?"
"It's a she. So, it doesn't matter one way or the other."
"Can you at least sent me a picture of your face? I would love to see how you really look like. You do realize that we have been chatting for eight months now? And we still would pass each other by on the road without recognizing."
There was no reply for a few long seconds. Despite her status being shown as online, he began to think she might have logged off.
"Why don't u go first?" came her reply eventually.
"Ladies first?" he said.
"Dat outdated concept"
He just stared at the phone screen for a long time, then turning his face towards his left, stared at himself in the dressing table mirror.
"I am still in bed. I want to show you my best face. Not the puffed up version still dull with sleep clinging to it like a xenomorph."
"Xenowhat?"
"Never mind that," he said. "Why don't we actually meet. I mean offline. We can meet at the Blue Lake Cafe. I will come there first. I will be wearing a red checkered shirt and a pair of black jeans. I have a tattoo with the word Muscle on my right forearm. Come check me out. If you don't like what you see, you can leave without being seen. What do you say?"
Another long pause before she sent in her reply. This time, her words were not abbreviated at all, as if to telegraph the idea that they were the result of careful deliberation. "So, you think that our relationship is all about appearances and nothing else?"