The path was long and tortuous but the victory was sweet and the prize priceless. That moment of intimacy a few days earlier on her sofa was simply the magical ecstasy that men look to get from a woman of incredible beauty. The process of reaching there was challenging but enjoyable as she was extremely hard to get. (This is described in 'Tradition and Triumph') She was orthodox, shy and of very strong character all rolled into one.
So, now that the initial barriers were broken I was going to enjoy this women to the fullest as much as I could. I planned for many romantic getaways to spend time with her, soak in her Indian beauty and squeeze out every drop of passion in me to drown us in bliss.
Or so I thought.
The day after that night I called around noon and asked to meet again when she replied that something had come up suddenly and that she had to be busy at work for a couple of days. So I let her be for the weekend and called her again early the next week.
The fact that she hadn't called might have been a red flag but I guess I was still drunk with her performance that night that it didn't just click.
When she picked up the phone after about four rings her voice sounded distant but I let that go as well. It was when we were well into our conversation after the usual pleasantries that she opened up.
She was unhappy with herself that she let us make love. She did not think that it was the correct thing to do. There were so many doubts about our future and where we were going and in that uncertain scenario we shouldn't have gotten into intimacy. Somebody or both of us is going to get hurt in this. She then went quiet and I spoke.
"Did you not enjoy it, Srila? Do you think I was taking advantage of you?"
"Oh no, no, no. Absolutely not," she retorted. "It's just that we aren't sure, are we?"
"How can anyone be sure of anything? We are in love and isn't that enough? Now be a good girl and let's meet up for some coffee at Starbucks."
She was reluctant but she agreed to meet in the evening.
She came dressed in her pink T shirt and jeans, the very thing she wore when I asked her if I could see her nude one afternoon a century ago. She had peeled off those jeans to reveal her womanhood for the first time and also with a degree of freedom that was an antithesis of her shyness.
We hugged and I went for her lips but she turned her face expertly while pulling away with a hint of a smile.
Privately I rebuilt her inner secret contours in my mind as I pretended to think as we seated ourselves.
We said nothing for a while then she broke the silence.
"Want a coffee?"
"Yeah sure. I'll get it. What do you want?"
"The usual but make it a small. Thanks."
I went to the counter and stood in line but had an eye on her to see if I could read her body language. She just sat with her chin in her hand with elbow on table and stared out the window. Her eyes or head were not moving with the bustle of activity outside. She was deep in thought and reflection and that was not good news at all. She was quite a cerebral woman and could intellectualize and analyze anything to shreds. She had regrets of what happened. At least that's what I saw in her.
When I went back with the coffee I decided to open up.
"Tell me, honey, did you not enjoy it that day? Why the big fuss?"
"Oh that's all, is it? A big fuss! A woman does not want to be in a situation like that, where she is... where she is unsure of what might happen to her. You are still married and who am I to be with you?
"Listen, listen," I interrupted. "We love each other and we made love. I did not force it and you enjoyed it didn't you?"
"Enjoying it doesn't mean that it's right."
"So you did enjoy it and if that's the case it must be right." I was firm in my tone and looked her right in the eye.
"Chuck, you don't understand me, or an Indian woman. We don't turn on passion when the situation demands. It is much more involved and commitment based. Please understand." She went on and on about what a relationship is and where intimacy should begin and what ingredients must be there always for the relationship to mature and how much she respected and loved me and that we should look into the foreseeable future with some common understanding.
It was then that it dawned on me that I had not won this fabulous woman completely. She was still in conservative mode or had somehow slipped back after that wonderful night of sex even if I forgot the little preliminaries we had earlier leading up.
I reached out and held her elbow. "Please Srila, take a moment to comprehend what you are upset about. Yes, I am married but I am separated and we are looking at divorce pretty soon. As I said, the lawyer sees no hurdles. So legally I am tied up but emotionally I am not."
"I feel really bad" She sipped her coffee and held her cup up as tears welled.
"Oh, please" I held her arm again.
"I know some men would think me cheap; not you, I know. I can't get into intimacy and then go into a state of limbo not knowing what's going to happen. A woman's mind works differently. At least an Indian woman's. It's different when we get intimate and then we are not committed"
"Come on, Srila," I protested, "what does committed mean? Ten years, fifty years or fifty days? I don't know what goes on in your mind. I admit I am lost here."
She twirled her straw in her coffee and stared intently at the creamy froth at the top before she responded.
"I guess you are right. You wouldn't know how a woman's mind works and I shouldn't react to how a man acts based on his inherent tendencies. I know you genuinely wanted to make love to me and you did. I was attracted to you and wanted it too and I responded positively. Now I am thinking back to realize that this is a short term association and I am upset."
"Why is it short term? What is short term? Two hours, two weeks or two years?"
"It is not a matter of defined time. It is a perception of something conceivably permanent."
"Oh God" I whined. I looked at her beautiful face as she kept her eyes on her coffee. Her eyelashes so regular and symmetrical, her lovely little nose and her cherry lips sucking on her straw. Below, not for the first time I ogled those magnificently well shaped boobs just above table level. I strained my eyes to even imagine her nipples pushing her pink T shirt.
For a moment my mind went back to those lovely orbs of hers with the light chocolate tips. Yes, she had a bit of a sag but she had a cute pear shape and ample volume to make them look sexy.
As she looked up I took my eyes away quickly. I looked her in the eyes as I almost whispered: "Let's go back home and make up!"
"No!" she was firm as she looked annoyed. "I don't want to say this but is sex all you think of?"
"Gosh! Does going home mean sex?"
We sat there in silence. She looking down at the table and perhaps wondering how she got changed from a faithfully traditional Indian woman to this object of carnal desire for this horny caucasian man.
She took her time finishing her coffee. We hardly spoke anything but the most mundane. It was regular small talk that casual acquaintances would indulge in. It was so unlike two people who had recently had sex. I had to bring that mood back.
"Let's take a walk. It's beautiful outside." Another few minutes of silence.
Then she looked up right into my eyes. I was thinking this was going to be a refusal as she dreaded being seen with me by her Indian friends. That was her in the past but she had a refreshing change.
Without saying a word she picked up her handbag and walked out with me. It seemed very natural to hold her hand and her fingers responded. The soft breeze greeted our faces and we walked a few yards into the small park, shoulders brushing and her tender fingertip gliding softly at the back of my thumb.
"I know it's tough for you," I began, "you've had to adjust to being alone and given your background had a difficult call to make."
"It wasn't difficult. That's the issue" We stopped by a little goldfish pond where a central fountain gushed water along a mini rocky cliff. The soothing crackle of running water and the cheerfully orange fish darting about under the rippling surface was calming. "It's so simple for you, men," she continued. "You feel the urge when you are with a woman and then you find a place to make love and then forget it for a while before you want to do it again. Simple!"
"Darling, in a way it is simple that men want to make love when they are with beautiful women. Sometimes it can be little more complex than that. I do have a conscience, you know. There is anxiety that the type of women that you have with you may not be a correct fit and there is a chance of someone getting hurt."
"That works for us, women too," she responded quickly. "And what exactly attracted you to me? Where did I fit your description?" she had a faint smile.
"You, my dear are my ideal!"
"Rubbish!" she frowned. She gestured towards a park bench: "Let's sit."
"You want to hear what's good in you?" She brought her finger to my lips to stop but I carried on after checking that no one is within hearing distance. "Your heavenly face, especially your lips. The fullness and the colour which gives it life. You have a smooth complexion, which many have told you about without any professional care or even cosmetic help. All over." I whispered now. "Your shoulders, legs and thighs too. There's silky soft smoothness all over.
"I love those breasts." I looked at them and she blushed. "They are so wonderfully proportionate and have those very sexy areolar and nipples which I love to taste. Do you like it when I do that?"
She looked into my eyes and ever so gently, almost imperceptibly, nodded. Was I winning her back? Then she said: "Say something that's not physical."
"Yes of course. You are such good company and very well read and intelligent and you hold a conversation very well; whether it be politics or science, philosophy or sports."
I felt a bit awkward that I was telling her all this and even discussing this topic. Suddenly it felt like I was back to square one and that I had to win this woman again. To go through all those painfully slow seduction steps looked like an exercise in tedium. For the first time in my association with Srila I was wondering if it was all worth it.
"I am a little ignorant of how these things are for men. I guess I am still learning and my experience is limited too." She was introspective.
"You have not been with another man other than Ashok?" That was her ex-husband.
"I told you. No!"
"Goodness, you Indians are so good. No romantic interludes even; no provocative situations? Nothing forced on you?"
"Well, depends on what you mean, really. You get forced into a lot of stuff if you are a woman. But consensual, no" She searched her mind. "Maybe one guy."
My ears perked up. "Ah, tell me. What was that? All the way?"
"Oh no. It was not even close." She glanced up to me as if resigning herself to a cozier zone of conversation. "It was a childhood friend and suddenly we were adolescents. We were together with other friends for a whole day on a family picnic and then at dusk, we found ourselves in a greenhouse and he held my arm, pulled me into a small dark room on the side, and kissed me. I had this weird feeling being a girl of about nineteen. I had good thoughts about this boy and he was paying some attention to me. That was good but I was scared my parents would be looking for me. I panicked.
"I wanted to go back and I said so. He kept muttering things in my ear as he kissed me all over my face and his hands started wondering." She produces one of her trademark giggles. "He palmed my butt and then he moved to my boobs. I had to pull away as I was getting carried away.
"Will you think less of me if I said it felt good?"
"No, not at all. Perfectly normal." I was hoarse with reflected excitement. "Go on."
"That was it. I walked out and though both of us were sheepish for a few days it was back to normal thereafter."
